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The KEEPERS 
OF THE TRAIL 


A STORY OF THE GREAT WOODS 


BY 

JOSEPH A. ALTSHELER 

AUTHOR OP “the YOUNG TRAILERS,” “THE PUREST RUNNERS,” ETC. 



ILLUSTRATED BY 

D. C. HUTCHISON 


NEW YORK AND LONDON 
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
1922 


Copyright, 1916, by 
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 

V \ ^ 

7 ^ 

% 



Printed in the United States of America 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I. 

Henry in His Kingdom 





PAGS 

. I 

II. 

The Big Guns. 





• 23 

m. 

The Indian Camp . 





. 41 

IV. 

The Deed in the Water . 





. 61 

V. 

The Forest Joker. 





. 83 

VI. 

The King Wolf . 





, lOI 

vn. 

The Forest Poets. 





. 123 

VIII. 

The Path of Danger . 





. 140 

IX. 

The Keepers of the Cleft 





. 164 

X. 

Besieged 





. 187 

XI. 

The Shiftless One 





. 207 

XII. 

On the Great Trail . 





. 23a 

XIII. 

Five Against A Thousand . 





. 251 

XIV. 

Holding the Ford . 





. 270 

XV. 

The Great Culmination . 





. 293 



i 


FOREWORD 


‘‘The Keepers of The Trail” deals with an episode, 
hitherto unrelated, in the lives of Henry Ware, 
Paul Cotter, Shifless Sol Hyde, Long Jim Hart, 
and Silent Tom Ross. In point of time it follows 
“The Forest Runners,” and, so, is the third volume 
of the “Young Trailer” series. 



J 


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: A . 


THE KEEPERS OF 
THE TRAIL 


CHAPTER I 

HENRY IN HIS KINGDOM 

A light wind blew over the great, primeval 
wilderness of Kentucky, the dense, green foli- 
age rippling under it like the waves of the sea. 
In every direction forest and canebrake stretched in 
> countless miles, the trees, infinite in variety, and great 
j in size, showing that Nature had worked here with the 
I hand of a master. Little streams flashing in silver 
or gold in the sunlight, flowed down to the greater 
rivers, and on a bush a scarlet tanager fluttered like a 
flash of flame. 

A youth, uncommon in size and bearing, stepped 
into a little opening, and looked about with the easy, 
natural caution belonging to the native of the forest 
who knows that danger is always near. His eyes 
pierced the foliage, and would have noticed anything 
unusual there, his ear was so keen that he would 
have heard at once any sound not a part of the 
woods. 

Eye and ear and the indefinable powers of primitive 
man told him no enemy was at hand, and he stood on 
the green hill, breathing the fresh, crisp air, with a de- 


1 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


light that only such as he could feel. Mighty was the 
wilderness, majestic in its sweep, and depth of color, 
and the lone human figure fitted into it perfectly, add- 
ing to it the last and finishing touch. 

He blended, too, with the forest. His dress, wholly 
of fine, tanned deerskin, was dyed green, the hunting 
shirt fringed, hunting shirt, leggings and moccasins 
alike adorned with rows of little beads. Fitting thus 
so completely into his environment, the ordinary eye 
would not have observed him, and his footsteps were 
so light that the rabbits in the bush did not stir, and the 
flaming bird on the bough was not frightened. 

Henry Ware let the stock of his rifle rest upon the 
ground and held it by the barrel, while he gazed over 
the green billows of the forest, rolling away ar^ 
away to every horizon. He was a fortunate huma. 
being who had come into his own kingdom, one in 
which he was fitted supremely to reign, and he would 
not have exchanged his place for that of any titular 
sovereign on his throne. 

His eyes gleamed with pleasure as he looked upon 
his world. None knew better than he its immense 
variety and richness. He noted the different shades 
of the leaves and he knew by contrast the kind of 
tree that bore them. His eye fell upon the tanager, 
and the deep, intense scarlet of its plumage gave him 
pleasure. It seemed fairly to blaze against the back- 
ground of woodland green, but it still took no alarm 
from the presence of the tall youth who neither stirred 
nor made any sound. 

Another bird, hidden behind an immense leaf, 

Z 


HENRY IN HIS KINGDOM 


they were comrades. He wished them well in their 
\work, and he knew that they would have snug houses, 
jwhen the next winter came. 

i’ He left them in their peace, returned to the brow 

I of the hill, and then walked slowly down the other 
side. He heard a woof, a sound of scrambling, and 
a black bear, big in frame, but yet lean from the win- 
u?/;, ran from its lair in the bushes, stopped a moment 
at fifty or sixty yards to look hard at him, and then, 
wheeling- again in frightened flight disappeared among 
the trees. , Henry once more laughed silently. He 
would not have harmed the bear either. 

A puffimg, panting sound attracted his attention, 
and, walkijng farther on, he looked into a glade, in 
which the, grass grew high and thick. He had 
known frc^^n the character of the noise that he would 
find buffaloes there, and they numbered about a dozen, 
grazing a while, and then breathing heavily in con- 
tent. He had seen them in countless herds on the 
western plains, when he was with Black Cloud and his 
tribe, but south of the Ohio, owing to the heavy forest, 
they were found only in small groups, although they 
were plentiful. 

The wind was blowing toward him, and standing 
partially behind a huge oak he watched them. They 
were the finest and largest inhabitants of his wilder- 
ness, splendid creatures, with their leonine manes and 
huge shoulders, beasts of which any monarch might 
be proud. He could easily bring down any one of 
them that he wanted with his rifle, but they were safe 
I from all bullets of his. 


5 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


He looked at them a while, as a man would gaz ' 
at a favorite horse. There was a calf among therr 
and whenever it wandered from the middle of th j 
glade toward the edge of the forest the mother would 
push it back. Henry, studying the woods there, saw| 
just within their shadow the long slinking figures of 
two gray wolves. He knew their purpose, but he knew 
also that it would not be fulfilled. 

He watched the little forest drama with an mr.erest 
none the less because it was not new to him. He saw 
the gray shadows creeping nearer and nesirer, while 
the calf persistently sought the woods, probably for 
shade. Presently the leader of the herd, ajn immense 
bull, almost black, caught an odor, wheeled like light- 
ning and rushed upon the wolves. There \\^’'as a single 
yelp, as one was trampled to death, and th<f other fled 
through the forest to seek easier prey. 

The buffaloes returned to their grazing and the 
foolish calf, warned by the danger froJi which he 
had been saved, stayed in the middle of th^ glade, with 
his elders as a wall around him. Henry pmiled. He 
had foreseen the result, and it was wholly jo his liking. 
He passed around the opening, not wishiijg to distu^^b 
the animals, and went northward, always on soundless 
feet. 

A stag, catching the human odor on the wind, 
sprang from a thicket, and crashed away i^n wild alarm. 
Henry laughed again and waved his hand at the 
fleeting figure. The stag did not know, that he had 
no cause to dread him, but Henry admired his speev\ 
A flock of wild turkeys rose from a ; bough abow 
6 


HENRY IN HIS KINGDOM 


prized most highly by the savage. The same reason 
made the ground all the more dangerous for the 
white people, because the Indians, unhampered by their 
women and children, came only with chosen bands of 
warriors, selected for supreme skill in battle and for- 
est lore. No seekers of new homes ever faced greater 
dangers than the little white vanguard that crossed 
the Alleghanies into the splendid new land beyond. 
Hidden death always lurked in the bush, and no man 
went beyond the palisade even on the commonest 
errand without his rifle. 

It was a noble task that Henry and his comrades 
had undertaken, to act as watchers, and it appealed to 
them all, to him most because he was continually in 
the wilderness that he loved so well, and he felt that 
he was doing a much greater work than when he was 
felling trees, and helping to clear a place for crops. 
As for himself he would never have cut down a single 
tree, although there were millions and millions of 
them. Nature held nothing that he admired more. 
He knew no greater delight than to stand on a high 
hill and look on the forest, deep green, waving in the 
wind, and stretching to the complete circle of the 
horizon and beyond. 

He was now in one of the loneliest stretches of the 
wilderness, far north of Wareville, and no great dis- 
tance from the Ohio. A day’s march would take him 
to a favorite crossing of the savages, and that was 
why he and his comrades were in this region. He 
increased his speed, settling into the long swinging 
gait which the scouts of the border always used, when 


9 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


they would hasten, but, in a half-hour, he stopped sud- 
denly and his figure seemed to vanish utterly in a dense 
mass of green bushes. 

Henry, now hidden himself, had seen. It was only 
a trace that scarcely any eye save his would have no- 
ticed, but in a place where the earth was soft he had 
observed the faint imprint of a moccasin, the toes 
turning inward and hence made by an Indian. Other 
imprints must be near, but, for a little while, he would 
not look, remaining crouched in the thicket. He wished 
to be sure before he moved that no wearer of a moc- 
casin was in the bush. It might be that Yellow 
Panther, redoubtable chief of the Miamis, and Red 
Eagle, equally redoubtable chief of the Shawnees, were 
at hand with great war bands, burning to avenge their 
defeats. 

He did not move for fully ten minutes. He had ac- 
quired all the qualities of those who live in constant 
danger in vast forests, and, like the animal that hides, 
his figure and dress blended completely with the green 
thicket. The air brought no menace to either eye or 
ear, and then he stepped forth. 

He found the imprints of five or six pairs of moc- 
casins farther on, and then they became so faint that 
the best trailer in the West could not follow them, 
although he believed that they had been made by a 
hunting party. It was customary for the Indians on 
their great raids to detach a number of men who would 
roam the forests for food, but he decided that he 
would not try to follow them any longer. He would 
not be deflected from his purpose to join his comrades. 

lo 


HENRY IN HIS KINGDOM 


Leaving the broken trail he sped north by west, the 
forests and thickets growing thicker as he advanced. 
At one point he came to a vast canebrake that 
seemed impassable, yet he made his way through it 
almost without slackening speed, and came to a grove 
of oaks, so large and so dense that the sunlight 
never entered there. He stopped at its edge and imi- 
tated the long, haunting cry of the owl. In a mo- 
ment or two a note like it, but distant and faint, 
came. He uttered the cry a second time, and heard 
the reply. 

Hesitating no longer he entered the oak grove. 
These trees with their great mossy trunks were the 
finest that he had ever seen. Some peculiar quality 
of the soil, some fertilizing agency beneath had given 
them an unparalleled growth. The leafy roof was 
complete, and he advanced as one who walks down a 
limitless hall, studded with a myriad of columns. 

Two miles and turning around a hill he came to a 
cup in its far side, hidden so well that the unknowing 
would have passed it unseen. But he called and his 
four comrades answered from the cup. Parting the 
bushes Henry entered and they gave him a low but 
joyous welcome. 

The cup, almost circular, was not more than ten 
feet across, but the sun shone in it and the ground was 
warm and dry. Just beyond the far edge a little spring 
gushed from under a stone and trickled away, whisper- 
ing gently through the bushes. 

Paul was the only one of the four who had risen. 
He stood now erect, the stock of his rifle resting on 


II 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


the ground, the customary attitude of the waiting bor- 
derer, his fine, intellectual face bright with interest. 

“Did you see anything, Henry?’' he asked. 

“O’ course he saw somethin’,” drawled Shif’less Sol. i 
“Did you ever know the time when Henry went any- 
whar without seein’ anythin’ ?” 

“Paul meant did he see anythin’ wuth tellin’,” said 
Long Jim. “You’re always talkin’ too much, Sol. 
Why did you want to bust in on a boy that was askin’ 
a decent question?” 

“I never talk too much. Long Jim Hart,” said 
the shiftless one indignantly. “Now an’ then I 
hev to talk a long time, ’cause I know so much that 
I can’t git it all out between sunrise an’ sunset, an’ 
the hours then are mighty crowded, too. I reckon 
that you’d never need more’n five minutes to empty 
your head.” 

“Mine’s a good head an’ it never has any swellin’ 
either.” 

“Give Henry a chance,” said Paul smiling. “How 
can he ever tell us anything, when you two are filling 
all the woods with the roar of argument ?” 

The debaters subsided. Silent Tom Ross said noth- 
ir^. His chariness of speech often saved him much 
breath. Besides, Tom was contented. He knew that 
if Henry had found anything worth telling a^ij^ thought 
fit to tell it he would do so at the right time. 

“Give me some venison,” said Henry. “I’ve walked 
a long way, and I’m hungry.” 

Paul produced a piece from a deerskin knapsack 
that he carried and Henry, sitting down in the cir- 


12 


HENRY IN HIS KINGDOM 


cular opening, ate. Paul lay down again and all c 
them waited. 

‘‘Indians,” said Henry at length, waving his hands 
toward the east. 

“How many ?” asked Shif ’less Sol. 

“I could not tell, but I think it’s a large band, either 
Miamis or Shawnees. Perhaps Yellow Panther and 
Red Eagle have come back.” 

“Like as not,” said the shiftless one. “They’re the 
kind to come.” 

“Huntin’ scalps,” said Tom Ross, speaking for the 
first time. 

“And it’s our business,” said Paul, “to see that they 
don’t get ’em.” 

“So it is,” said Long Jim. “A man hates to lose his 
hair, ’specially when he’s got such thick, beautiful hair 
as mine. I’ve heard that a big prize fur my scalp has 
been offered to all the Injun nafUwis across the Ohio. 
Still, danger heats up my courage, an’ I’m right proud 
uv bein’ a marked man.” 

“We must find out all about that band,” said Tom 
Ross. “Which way wuz they goin’?” 

“The trail so far as it showed led to the east,” 
replied Henry, “but you couldn’t tell anything by 
that. I’m quite sure it was made by hunters sent 
out for buffalo or deer to feed the main band. 
There’s lots of game around here, which shows that 
the Indians haven’t been roving over this region 
much.” 

“I’ve seen all kinds,” said Long Jim. “It jest walks 
or flies right up to our rifle barrels, an’ ef it wuzn’t fur 


13 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 

the danger Fd like to show you fellers the grand way 
in which I could cook a lot uv it/' 

‘‘Right thar, old boss, I stand up fur you ag’in' the 
world," said Shif'less Sol, “but I reckon we ain’t 
lightin’ any fires jest now." 

“No," said Henry. “I think we’d better stay here 
the rest of the day, and keep ourselves in hiding. The 
main band, whatever its size or wherever it is, seems 
to have plenty of flankers and hunters, and if we ran 
into them, as we surely would, we wouldn’t have any 
chance to watch ’em later on." 

“Right, o’ course," said Shif’less Sol, and the others 
agreed in silence. 

The five lay back upon the dry leaves, depending 
upon hearing chiefly, to warn them of the possible com- 
ing of an enemy. The undergrowth was so dense 
about the cup that no one fifteen yards away could see 
them, and they were able to hear even a creeping war- 
rior, before he could come that near. Hence they 
reposed without alarm, and, bold forest runners that 
they were, eternally on guard, they took their ease 
with a certain sense of luxury. 

It was about the middle of the afternoon, and the 
sun was at its brightest, the rays being vertical. From 
their woodland cup they looked up at a circle of shining 
blue sky, continually crossed by tiny white clouds, 
following one another in a regular procession from 
south to north. The majesty of the wilderness and 
the illimitable covering of forest green appealed to 
Paul but little less than to Henry. He, too, felt the 
great lift of the spirit, danger or no danger. 


14 


HENRY IN HIS KINGDOM 


The five enjoyed the wilderness, every one in his 
own way, Henry and Paul because their souls were 
stirred by it, Shif’less Sol because it was always un- 
folding to him some new wonder, Tom Ross because 
it was a hunting ground without limit, and Long Jim 
because nearly every kind of game found in it could 
be eaten, after it had been cooked by his master hand. 

But they did not speak now. The people of the 
border, save in their homes, never talked much. The 
caution bred by the necessity of the woods became a 
habit. They acquired an extraordinary power over 
voice and nerves. Like a Hindu, a man could lie silent 
and motionless for hours. In this respect they had the 
quality of the Indian and the five at least could match 
his native cunning and training, and, in addition, bring 
to their own aid a superior intellectual power. That 
was why they were kings of the woods. . 

The sun passed the zenith and the rays were no 
longer vertical, but it was almost as bright in the cup 
as ever, while the sky itself had lost nothing of its 
shining blue tint. Paul presently said : 

‘T notice a shred of brown or gray against that 
brilliant blue. Now all the little clouds are white, and 
this sadder color has no business there. Besides, it's 
a blur. Would you say it's smoke, Henry?" 

Henry, who had been listening rather than watching, 
opened his eyes and stared intently at the faint smudge 
on the sky. 

'^Yes, it's smoke," he said, "‘and as the wind now 
comes from the south it, too, is traveling that way. 
Don't you think so, Sol ?" 


15 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


‘‘O' course, Henry. Now you see thar's a little big- 
ger patch o' gray followin' the first, an' it ain't so 
mighty high above us, either." 

“Yes, I see it. Read the book for us, Sol." 

“Lookin' at them thar two bits o' gray which Natur' 
didn't put up in the sky, but which somehow came 
from the hand o' man, I kin spin the tale jest ez it is. 
That's smoke up thar. It can't come from any kind 
o' a forest fire, 'cause it's early spring an' the woods 
are too green to burn. Thar ain't no white people in 
these parts 'cept ourselves an' ef thar wuz they 
wouldn't be so foolish ez to build a fire that sends up 
smoke. So it's bound to be Injuns. They're a big 
band, so big that they ain’t afeard o' bein' attacked. 
That's the reason why they’re so keerless 'bout thar 
smoke. An' 'cause the band is so big it ain’t jest hunt- 
ers. It's a war band bound south ag'in the settlements 
to git scalps in revenge for all the braves they've lost. 
Do I tell the truth, Henry ?" 

“To the last detail." 

“Thoroughly good logic," said Paul. 

“What's logic?" asked Long Jim. 

“I'll illustrate,” replied Paul. “When you see a 
deer, take aim at him with your rifle and shoot him 
through the heart, you feel quite sure when he drops 
dead that it was you who killed him. Logic tells you 
that, and so that is logic." 

“I reckon I know now," said Long Jim, rubbing his 
chin. 

“Tom,” said Henry, “about how far from us is the 
fire that makes that smoke ?" 


i6 


HENRY IN HIS KINGDOM 


“Smoke, ’less there’s a terrible lot uv it, don’t hang 
together long,” replied Ross, looking up thoughtfully 
at the little gray clouds. “But I reckon them two thar 
wuz broke off from a much bigger piece at the start, 
an’ are gittin’ smaller ez they come. But thar main 
camp ain’t more’n two miles from here, Henry.” 

“Just about that, I should say. We’d better look 
^em over tonight, hadn’t we ?” 

“Jest ez you say. You’re the leader, Henry.” 

“We’ll do it, if we can, but I’m thinking we’ll have 
to be mighty careful. I’ve an idea that the woods are 
full of warriors. I don’t want to be burned at the 
stake.” 

“But Jim Hart here 'would make a most bee-yu-ti-ful 
torch,” said Shif’less Sol. “Slim an’ nigh on to six 
feet and a half tall he’d light up the whole woods, ef 
he wuz set on fire on top fust.” 

“Ef you wuz set on fire on top,” said Long Jim, 
'“thar wouldn’t be much burnin’, ’cause a blaze can’t 
feed on emptiness.” 

“Thar goes another o’ them little gray patches,” 
said Silent Tom. “That means they’re still feedin’ the 
fire — fur cookin’ too, ’cause they don’t need it to warm 
by. The hunters must hev brought in a power o’ game, 
’cause when the warriors do eat, an’ they hev plenty 
o’ it to last, they eat in a way no white man can 
match.” 

“I suppose that was the way of the primitive man,” 
said Paul, who was wont to think about origins and 
causes. “He was^jlfiever sure of his food, and when he 
had it he ate all he. could.” 


17 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


Henry uttered a slight warning hiss, a sibilant 
breath, scarcely more, and the five shifting a little, 
grasped their rifles in such a manner that they could 
be pushed forward at once, and listened with all their 
ears. Henry had heard a light footfall, and then the 
faint sound of voices. He drew himself to the edge 
of the covert and he did it with so much skill that not 
a leaf or a blade of grass rustled. 

Lying flat on the ground, and, looking underneath 
the boughs of the trees and bushes, where only the 
trunks and stems were in the way, he saw the legs of 
four men, the upper parts of their bodies being com- 
pletely hidden by the foliage. Henry knew, neverthe- 
less, that they were three Indians and one white man. 
The white man was disclosed by his thicker legs and 
his toes which turned out. All were clothed much alike 
in deerskin leggings, but Henry could make no mis- 
take. 

It was equally evident to him that the white man 
was not a prisoner, because he walked quite freely. 
Once he passed ahead of the three Indians, and then 
he dropped behind. If a captive, he would have walked 
just behind one warrior and the other two, in Indian 
file, would have walked close behind him. 

Henry saw also that they were carrying heavy 
weights, because they stepped slowly and with a cer- 
tain stiffness. There was a rigidity and tension that 
strong men walking easily would not have shown. 
Unquestionably they were successful hunters, carrying 
game to a great gluttonous band feasting with energy 
two miles away. 


i8 


HENRY IN HIS KINGDOM 


“Three Shawnees and Braxton Wyatt,” whispered 
Shif’less Sol, who had crept to his side. “Don’t you 
remember that he had jest the faintest bit o’ bow in 
his legs ? An’ thar’s that bow. Why, I’d know them 
legs anywhar in the world.” 

“That’s so,” said Henry. “Now I wonder what his 
wicked mind is devising. There’s no hater like a 
renegade.” 

“You may be shore he’s thinkin’ o’ harm to our 
people down below,” said the shiftless one. “I’m glad 
we’re here to see ’em.” 

Henry nodded in agreement, and they whispered to 
the others that Wyatt and three Shawnees were pass- 
ing. Henry and Sol knew that they were Shawnees, 
because they had red beads in a row on their leggings, 
where the Miamis wore blue ones. 

“Ef I wuz to steal down a bit through the bushes an’ 
shoot that traitor right squar’ through his black heart, 
ez I could do easy. I’d be savin’ the lives o’ innocent 
men, women an’ children,” said Shif’less Sol. 

“It is likely,” said Henry, “but you mustn’t do it. 
Somehow I can’t see a man shot from ambush. Be- 
sides, it would give the alarm, an’ we mightn’t be able 
to carry on our work.” 

“I didn’t say I wanted to do it, but it’s pow’ful 
temptin’.” 

“Yes, I know, but it’s silence and waiting for us.” 

The four pairs of legs, three Indian and one white, 
passed on. Ten minutes later they heard a long whoop 
from one point, and a long whoop from another point 
answered. They were not war cries, merely signals. 


19 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


and the five appreciated more than ever the invisibility 
of their little retreat. There was not more than one 
chance in a hundred that a wandering warrior would 
stumble upon it. 

Other calls were heard through the forest, and then 
the faint sound of a chant dying swiftly. 

‘‘They’re merry,” said Paul, with swift intuition. 
“Maybe they have some scalps already to rejoice over.” 

It was a bitter reminder to Henry, and yet it might 
be true. A small band, traveling fast, might have 
struck an unguarded settlement, and, returning, might 
be here now with the great band, bearing their san- 
guinary trophies. Five only, no matter how brave and 
skillful, could not watch the whole border. 

“There’s nothing to do,” he said, “but wait for dark- 
ness.” 

Not one of them had risen to his feet, and they 
merely sank back on their elbows, again relying more 
upon ear than eye. They relaxed, but they were ready 
for instant action, should the need come. 

They would not have very long to wait now. The 
sun was so far over in the west that it cast slanting 
rays and shadows were gathering at the base of the 
cup. It was growing colder and the rising wind sang 
among the green young leaves. A vast red sun hang- 
ing low over the western wilderness tinged the forest, 
as if with fire. To an ordinary human being it would 
have been an awful sun in its flaming majesty, fright- 
ening him, lost in the forest, by its mysterious im- 
mensity, but the five, either separately or alone were 
too familiar with the great spectacle to feel fear. 


20 


HENRY IN HIS KINGDOM 


“It's an uncommonly red sun," said Tom Ross. 

“And they say that means battle," said Paul, who 
had read much for a lad of the frontier. 

“I s'pose so," said the shiftless one, “an' it may 
mean a storm, but I reckon in this case it’s more like- 
ly to p’int to rifles an’ tomahawks.” 

The splendor of the west in its crimson and gold 
deepened. Higher up in the heavens were glorious 
terraces of blue and pink. The boughs of the distant 
trees stood out as if they were wrapped in living fire. 

“Magnificent !" said Paul, for whom its magic never 
palled. 

“And now it's fading," said Henry. 

“The shoulder of the world is coming up between," 
said Paul. 

“What do you mean by that?" asked Long Jim, 
“when with your own eyes you kin see the sun movin' 
'roun' behind the earth." 

“The sun doesn't move, Jim, that is, so far as we're 
concerned, but we do. We roll around ourselves every 
day and night. At the end of the day the earth is be- 
tween us and the sun, and in the night when we roll 
back around we face the sun again." 

“You've read a lot of books, Paul, forty or fifty, I 
s'pose, an' I believe most that you say, but you can't 
make me believe a thing like that. Don't I see the sun 
set, an* don't I see it rise? What's print to a fellow's 
eyes ? Print can lie, but your eyes don't." 

Paul did not deem it worth while to argue. In a 
few more minutes the sun was hidden behind the turn- 
ing earth, leaving great bands of gold and blue and 


21 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


pink, which, in their turn, faded fast, giving place to 
the gray of coming twilight. 

The five ate venison, and drank from the tiny brook 
at the edge of the cup. Meanwhile, full night came, 
and they prepared to go forth and see what they 
might see. 


CHAPTER II 


THE BIG GUNS 

D espite the brilliant sunset, the night was 
dark, drifting clouds veiling the moon at times, 
while the stars lay hidden behind mists and 
vapors, making the conditions suitable for those who 
wished to scout and spy upon an enemy, as fierce and 
implacable as the Indian. 

“All that color when the sun went down means 
rain,’’ said Tom Ross, who was weatherwise. 

“But not tonight,” said Henry. 

“No, not tonight, but tomorrow, sometime, it’ll 
come, shore. Them warriors hev built up their fires 
mighty big. Can’t you smell the smoke ?” 

The wind was blowing toward them and upon 
came the faint odor of burning wood. 

“They’re indulging in what we would call ' 
tival,” said Paul. “They must have an imme^ 
fire, and it must be a huge camp.” 

“Beyond a doubt,” said Henry. 

Examining their weapons carefully 
cup, dropping into their usual order, as 
their silent way through the forest, i 


23 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


ing, the shiftkss one next, then Paul, followed hj 
Long Jim whiit Silent Tom covered the rear. 
There was no noise as they passed. They slipped by 
the boughs and every moccasined foot instinctively 
avoided the rotten stick that would break beneath its 
weight. 

As they advanced the odor of burning wood grew 
stronger. It might not have been noticed by the 
dwellers in peaceful lands, but it was obvious at once 
to senses trained like theirs in the hardest of all 
schools, that of continuous danger. Henry twice 
heard the swish of a heavy night bird over their heads, 
but he knew the sound and paid no attention to it. 
Faint sliding noises in the thickets were made by the 
little animals, scuttling away in fright at the odor of 
man. 

They crossed a shallow valley, in which the forest 
was extremely dense, and emerged upon a low hill, 
covered with oak, maple and elm, without much under- 
growth. Here Henry was the first to see a low, barely 
discernible light upon the eastern horizon, and he 
ailed the attention of the others to it. All of them 
'ew that it was the glow of the Indian campfire, and 
irently nothing but heavy forest lay between them 
'e flames. 

held a consultation, and agreed that Henry and 


" ^1, the best two trailers, should go forward, 
• three should remain in reserve to cover 
if it were forced, or to go forward to 
ae, if they did not return before morning. 
1 was reached quickly. The superiority 



24 


THE BIG GUNS 


was accorded at once and without jealousy to Henry 
and the shiftless one. 

But they moved forward in a group, until the glow 
rose higher and grew brighter. Then the three who 
were to stay lay close in a clump of bushes growing 
near the base of a great elm that Henry and Shi f ’less 
Sol marked well. Faint whoops or their echo came to 
them, and they knew that the warriors were rejoicing. 

‘‘A mighty big camp, bigger even than we thought,’' 
said Silent Tom. 

‘‘We’ll soon see,” said Henry, as he and his comrade 
in the daring venture slid away among the bushes. 
Then the two went forward with unbelievable skill. 
Not even the ear of a warrior could have heard them 
fifteen feet away, and they never relaxed their caution, 
although they did not believe that the Indians were 
keeping very close watch. 

They had seen at first a glow more pink than red. 
Now it was a deep scarlet, showing many leaping 
tongues against the forest. The odor of burning wood 
became strong, and they saw sparks and wisps of 
smoke flying among the leaves. Long fierce whoops 
like the cry of animals came at times, but beneath them 
was an incessant muttering chant and the low, steady 
beat of some instrument like a drum. 

“The war dance,” whispered Henry. 

The shiftless one nodded. 

They redoubled their caution, creeping very slowly, 
lying almost flat upon the ground and dragging 
their bodies forward, like crawling animals. They 
were coming to one of the openings, like a tiny prairie. 


25 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


frequent in early Kentucky, sheltered on the side they 
were approaching by a dense canebrake, through which 
they were making their way. 

The open space was several acres in extent, and at 
the far end were tepees, which the two knew were 
intended for chiefs of high degree. In the center 
burned an immense bonfire, or rather a group of bon- 
fires, merged into one, fed incessantly by warriors who 
dragged wood from the adjoining forest, and threw 
it into the flames. 

But it was not the sight of the fire or the tepees that 
stirred Henry. It was tha* of hundreds of Indian 
warriors gathered and indulging in one of those savage 
festivals upon which nobody could look at night with- 
out a thrill of wonder and awe. Here primeval man 
was in his glory. 

The Indians of North America were a strange com- 
pound of cruelty and cunning, leavened at times by 
nobility and self-sacrifice. Most of the tribes were 
perfect little nolitical organizations, and the league of 
the Iroquois was worthy of a highly civilized race. 
They were creatures of circumstances, and, while loyal 
to friends, they were merciless to enemies, devising 
incredible methods of torture. 

It was this knowledge that made Henry shudder as 
he looked upon the great camp. He knew the Indian 
and liked him in many respects — ^his captivity in the 
northwest had been no pain — but he was white and he 
must fight for the white man, and hence against the 
red. 

The warriors were intoxicated not with liquor, but 


26 


THE BIG GUNS 


with the red fury of the brain. Vast quantities of 
game, freshly dressed, were heaped upon the earth. 
Every man would seize a piece to suit himself, broil 
it hastily on coals and then eat. He ate like the 
savage he was, and the amounts they devoured were 
astonishing, just as they could fast an amazing number 
of days, if need be. 

Whenever one had eaten enough for the time he 
would rush into a mass of dancers near the eastern 
edge of the opening. Then he would begin to leap 
back and forth and chant with unnatural energy. They 
could keep up this manner of dancing and singing for 
many hours, and they quit it only to obtain more food 
or to fall down exhausted. 

‘Tt’s the war dance,” whispered Henry. 

Shifless Sol nodded. It was, in truth, just ap- 
proaching its height as the two crept near. Four 
powerful warriors, naked except for the breech clout, 
were beating incessantly and monotonously upon the 
Indian drums. These drums (Ga-no-jo) were about a 
foot in height and the drummer used a single stick. 
The dance itself was called by the Shawnees, Sa-ma- 
no-o-no, which was the name bestowed upon this 
nation by the Senecas, although the Iroquois them- 
selves called the dance Wa-ta-seh. 

Few! white men have looked upon such a spectacle 
at such a time, in the very deeps of the wilderness, 
under a night sky, heavy with drifting clouds. The 
whole civilized world had vanished, gone utterly like 
a wisp of vapor before a wind, and it was peopled only 
by these savage figures that danced in the dusk. 


27 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


Near the trees stood a group of chiefs, among whom 
Henry recognized Yellow Panther, the Miami, and 
Red Eagle, the Shawnee, imposing men both, but not 
the equals of an extremely tall and powerful young 
chief, who was destined later to be an important figure 
in the life of Henry Ware. They stood silent, digni- 
fied, the presiding figures of the dance. 

The war drums beat on, insistent and steady, like 
the rolling of water down a fall. The very monotony 
of the sound, the eternal harping upon one theme, con- 
tained power. Henry, susceptible to the impressions 
of the wilderness, began to feel that his own brain was 
being heated by it, and he saw as through a dim red 
mist. The silent and impassive figures of the chiefs 
seemed to grow in height and size. The bonfires 
blazed higher, and the monotonous wailing chant of 
the warriors was penetrated by a ferocious under note 
like the whine of some great beast. He glanced at the 
shiftless one and saw in his eyes the same intense awed 
look which he knew was in his own. 

The mass of men who had been dancing stopped 
suddenly, and the chant stopped with them. The war- 
riors gathered into two great masses, a lane between 
them. Save the chiefs, all were naked to the breech 
clout, and from perspiring bodies the odor of the wild 
arose. 

The fires were blazing tremendously, sending off 
smoke, ashes and sparks that floated over the trees and 
were borne far by the wind. At intervals, prolonged 
war whoops were uttered, and, heavy with menace, 
they rang far through the woods, startling and dist^V 


( 


THE BIG GUNS 


Then from the edge of the forest emerged about 
forty warriors painted and decorated in a wildly fan- 
tastic manner and wearing headdresses of feathers. 
The drums beat again, furiously now, and the men be- 
gan to dance, swinging to and fro and writhing. At 
the same time they sang a war song of fierce, choppy 
words, and those who were not dancing sang with 
them. 

The lane wound around and around, and, as the 
singers and dancers went forward they increased in 
vehemence. They were transported, like men who 
have taken some powerful drug, and their emotions 
were quickly communicated to all the rest of the band. 
Fierce howls rose above the chant of the war songs. 
Warriors leaping high in the air made the imaginary 
motions of killing and scalping an enemy. Then their 
long yells of triumph would swell above the universal 
chant. 

All the while it was growing darker in the forest. 
The heavy drifting clouds completely hid the moon and 
stars. The sky was black and menacing, and the cir- 
cular ring of woods looked solid like a wall. But 
within this ring the heat and fury grew. The violence 
and endurance of the dancers were incredible, and the 
shouting chant of the multitude urged them on. 

Henry caught sight of a white figure near the chiefs, 
and he recognized the young renegade, Braxton Wyatt. 
Just behind him was another and older renegade 
named Blackstaffe, famed along the whole border for 
his cunning and cruelty. Then he saw men, a half- 
dozen of them, in the red uniforms of British officers, 



29 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


and behind them two monstrous dark shapes on wheels. 

“Can those be cannon?’’ he whispered to Shif’less 
Sol. 

“They kin be an’ they are. I reckon the British allies 
o’ the Injuns hev brought ’em from Detroit to batter 
down the palisades o’ our little settlements.” 

Henry felt a thrill of horror. He knew that they 
were cannon, but he had hoped that the shiftless one 
would persuade him they were not. They were prob- 
ably the first cannon ever seen in that wilderness, the 
sisters of those used later with success by the Indians 
under English leadership and with English cannoneers 
from Detroit against two little settlements in Kentucky. 

But startled as Henry was, his attention turned back 
to the dancers. Old customs, the habits of far-off 
ancestors, slumbered in him, and despite himself some- 
thing wild and fierce in his blood again responded to 
the primeval appeal the warriors were making. A red 
haze floated before his eyes. The tide of battle surged 
through his blood, and, then, with a fierce warning to 
himself, he stilled his quivering body and crouched 
low again. 

A long time they watched. When a dancer fell ex- 
hausted another leaped gladly into his place. The 
unconscious man was dragged to one side, and left 
until he might recover. 

“I think we’ve seen enough, don’t you ?” whispered 
Henry. “I’d feel better if I were further away.” 

“Stirs me like that too,” said Shif’less Sol. “It ain’t 
healthy fur us to stay here any longer. ’Sides, we 
know all we want to know. This is a big war parH*. 


30 


THE BIG GUNS 


mostly Miamis and Shawnees, with some Wyandots 
an’ a few Iroquois and Delawares.” 

“And tht English and the cannon.” 

“Yes, Henry, an’ I don’t like the looks o’ them can- 
non, the first, I reckon, that ever come across the Ohio. 
Our palisades can turn the bullets easy ’nuff, but they’d 
fly like splinters before twelve pound round shot.” 

“Then,” said Henry with sudden emphasis, “it’s the 
business of us five to see that those two big guns never 
appear before Wareville or Marlowe, where I imagine 
they intend to take them 1” 

“Henry, you hit the nail squar’ on the head the fust 
time. Ef we kin stop them two cannon it’ll be ez much 
ez winnin’ a campaign. I think we’d better go back 
now, an’ j’in the others, don’t you?” 

“Yes, I don’t see that we can do anything at present. 
But Sol, we must stop those cannon some way or other. 
We beat off a great attack at Wareville once, but we 
couldn’t stand half a day before the big guns. How 
are we to do it ? Tell me, Sol, how are we to do it ?” 

“I don’t know, Henry, but we kin hang on. You 
know we’ve always hung on, an’ by bangin’ on we 
gen’rally win. It’s a long way to Wareville, an’ wEile 
red warriors kin travel fast cannon can’t get through 
a country covered ez thick with woods an’ bushes ez 
this is. They’ll hev to cut a road fur ’em nigh all the 
way.” 

“That’s so,” said Henry more hopefully. “They’ll 
have to go mighty slow with those big guns through 
the forests and thickets and canebrake, and across so 
many rivers and creeks. We’ll hang on, as you say. 


31 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


and it may give us a chance to act. I feel better al- 
ready.'' 

“They ain't likely to move fur a day or two, Henry. 
After the dances an' the big eatin' they'll lay 'roun' 'till 
they've slep' it all off, an' nobody kin move 'em 'till 
they git ready, even if them British officers talk 'till 
their heads ache. They're goin' on with the dancin' 
too. Hear them whoops." 

The long shrill cries uttered by the warriors still 
reached them, as they stole away. Henry passed his 
hand across his forehead. All that strange influence 
was gone now. He no longer saw the red mist, and 
his heart ceased to beat like a hammer. The healthy 
normal forest was around him, full of dangers, it was 
true, but of dangers that he could meet with decision 
/ and judgment. 

They returned rapidly, but occasionally they looked 
back at the red glare showing above the trees, and for 
most of the w'ay the faint echoes of the whoops came 
to them. When they approached the bushes in which 
they had left the others Henry uttered a low whistle 
which was promptly answered in like fashion by Silent 
Tom. 

“What did you see?" asked Paul, as they emer'^ed 
from their hiding place. 

“Nigh on to a thousand warriors," replied Shif'less 
Sol, “an' it was a mighty fine comp'ny too. We saw 
two chiefs. Yellow Panther, the Miami, an' Red Eagle, 
the Shawnee, that we've had dealin's with before, an* 
our old friend Braxton Wyatt, an' the big renegade 
Blackstaffe, an* British officers." 


32 


THE BIG GUNS 


‘‘British officers!” exclaimed Paul. “What are they 
doing there ?” 

“You know that our people in the East are at war 
with Britain,” said Henry, “and I suppose these offi- 
cers and some men too have come from Detroit to 
help the warriors wipe us out in Kentucky. They’ve 
brought with them also two very formidable allies, 
the like of which were never seen in these woods 
before.” 

“Two new and strange allies, Henry?” said Paul. 
“What do you mean ?” 

“Something that rolls along on wheels, and that 
speaks with a voice like thunder.” 

“I don’t understand yet.” 

“And when it speaks it hurls forth a missile that 
can smash through a palisade like a stone through 
glass.” 

“It must be cannon. You surely don’t mean cannon, 
Henry?” 

“I do. The big guns have crossed the Ohio. The 
Indians or rather the English with ’em, mean to use 
em against us. It’s our business to destroy ’em. Sol 
and I have agreed on that, and you are with us, are 
y^ not?” 

“O’ course!” said Tom Ross. 

“Uv course!” said Long Jim. 

“Through everything,” said Paul. 

“What do you think we’d better do right now?” 
asked Ross. 

“Go back to the cup and sleep,” replied Henry. “It’ll 
be safe. The Indians will be so gorged from their 


33 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


orgie, and will feel so secure from attack that they'll 
hardly have a scout in the forest tomorrow." 

“Good plan/’ said the shiftless one. “I expect to be 
in that shady little place in a half-hour. Long Jim here, 
havin’ nothin’ else to do, will watch over me all through 
the rest of the night, an’ tomorrow when the sun comes 
out bright, he’ll be settin’ by my side keepin’ the flies 
off me, an’ me still sleepin’ ez innercent ez a baby.’’’ 

“That won’t happen in the next thousand years," 
said Long Jim. “Ef thar’s anything fannin’ you to- 
morrow, when you wake up, a Shawnee or a Miami 
warrior will be doin’ it with a tomahawk." 

They quickly retraced their course to the cup, being 
extremely careful to leave no trail, and were about to 
make ready for the night. Every one of them carried 
a light blanket, but very closely woven and warm, upon 
which he usually slept, drawing a fold over him. The 
dry leaves and the blankets would make a bed good 
enough for any forest rover at that time of the year, 
but Henry noticed a stone outcrop in a hill above them 
and concluded to look farther. 

“Wait till I come back," he said, and he pushed his 
way through the bushes. 

The outcrop was of the crumbling limestone that 
imparts inexhaustible fertility to the soil of a great 
region in Kentucky. It is this decaying stone or a 
stone closely akin which makes it the most wonderful 
cave region in the world. 

Higher up the slope Henry found deep alcoves in 
the stone, most of them containing leaves, and also a 
strong animal odor, which showed that in the winter 


34 


THE BIG GUNS 


they had been occupied as lairs by wild animals, prob- 
ably bears. 

Looking a little farther he found one that penetrated 
deeper than the rest. It might almost have been called 
a cave. It was so placed that at that time of night the 
opening faced a bit of the moon that had made a way 
through the clouds, and, Henry peering into the dusky 
interior, judged that it ran back about twenty feet. 
There was no odor to suggest that it had been used 
as a lair, perhaps because the animals liked the alcoves 
better. 

He threw in some twigs, but, no growl coming forth, 
he entered boldly through an aperture about three feet 
across and perhaps five feet high. He stepped on 
smooth stone, but as soon as he was inside he stopped 
and listened intently. He heard a faint trickling sound, 
evidently from the far side of the cave, which appeared 
to be both deeper and wider than he had thought. 

Henry surmised that the sound was made by running 
water, and standing a long time, until his eyes could 
grow used, in some degree, to the dusky interior, he, 
at length, made out the opposite wall which was of 
white stone. Stepping carefully he found that a tiny 
stream flowed in a groove made by itself, coming out 
of one side of the wall and disappearing in the other. 

It was such a thin little stream that it created no 
dampness in the cave and Henry, drinking some of 
the water from the palm of his hand, found it fresh and 
cold. He experienced a singular pleasure in discover- 
ing the water, one that he did not understand. Per- 
haps it was a prevision. 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 

He explored fully this room in stone, and found it 
dry and clean throughout. His ancestors, hundreds 
of thousands of years ago, would have rejoiced to find 
such a place, and Henry rejoiced now for reasons which 
were akin to theirs. He returned quickly to the cup. 

‘‘We won't sleep here,” he said. 

“Why not?” asked Paul. 

“Because Fve found a better place.” 

“But this is fine.” 

“I know, but I have a finer.” 

“What is it?” 

“A beautiful stone mansion, built generations ago. 
It has no furniture in it now, but we don’t need any. 
It’s built very solidly and it’s been waiting for us a 
long time.” 

“A hole in the limestone,” hazarded Shi f ’less Sol. 

“Partly right. It’s more than a hole. It’s a room, 
and we’ve had great luck to find it, I tell you, this stone 
room specially made a million years ago for our use.” 

“Well, it’s been waitin’ a good while, but we’re 
here.” 

“Come along. I’ll lead you,” said Henry, “and be 
sure not to leave any trace of a trail. This house is 
intended for us only, and we don’t want any wandering 
warriors, no matter what their nation, knocking at 
our doors.” 

“Hurry,” said Shif’less Sol. “I’m gittin’ pow’ful 
sleepy.” 

Henry led the way, and, as he did so, taking a com- 
prehensive look at the heavens, he was glad for other 
reasons as well as safety that they had found thei*- 

36 


THE BIG GUNS 


stone house in the hill. The bit of a moon was gone 
and the clouds hung lower and darker. He felt the 
damp in the air. 

The moutli of the cave was almost hidden by a heavy 
growth of bushes, but Henry, pulling them aside a 
little, pointed to the opening. 

‘Tn there with you,” he said to Long Jim, who was 
nearest. 

“Who? Me?” said Long Jim, “an’ run squar’ into 
a b’ar’s mouth ? Let Sol go. He’s the fattest, an’ the 
b’ar would like him best.” 

“No bear is inside,” said Henry. “I’ve seen to that. 
A herd of about fifty was in there, the first bear herd 
I ever saw, but I killed them all with my knife and 
threw them down the cliff before I saw you.” 

“Then ez you’ve cleared out the place, Henry,” said 
Long Jim, “I guess it’s all safe, an’ here goes.” 

He bent down from his mighty height and entered, 
the others following silently in single file, swallowed 
up by the dusk. Then they stood in a group, until they 
could see one another, the faint light from the door 
helping. 

“Well,” said Henry, proudly, “haven’t I done well 
by you ? Isn’t our new house equal to my announce- 
ment of it ?” 

“Equal, and more than equal !” exclaimed Paul with 
enthusiasm. “Why, we haven’t had such a place si^ 
that time we lived on the island in the lake, an 
is a greater protection from danger.” 

“An’ we hev plenty o’ water, too, I see,” 
less Sol. “Look at the river over thar. 


37 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


ag’in the wall. ’Tain't more’n three inches wide, an’ 
an inch deep, but it runs fast.” 

‘T’ve no doubt that a cave family lived here two or 
three hundred thousand years ago,” said Paul, his vivid 
fancy blossoming forth at once. 

“What are you talkin’ about, Paul?” said Long Jim. 
“People livin’ here two or three hundred thousand 
years ago ! Why, the world is only six thousand years 
old ! The Bible says so !” 

“In the Biblical sense a year did not mean what a 
year does now, Jim. It may have been a thousand 
times as long. Men did live in caves several hundred 
thousand years ago. A book that Mr. Pennypacker has 
says so.” 

“If the book says it, I reckon it’s so,” said Long Jim, 
with the borderer’s sublime faith in the printed word. 

“The man of that time was a big, hairy fellow. He 
didn’t have even bows and arrows. He fought with 
a stone club or ax of stone.” 

“An’ do you mean to tell me, Paul, that a man with 
jest a club could go out an’ meet the arrers of the In- 
juns? Why, all uv them warriors kin shoot arrers 
pow’ful hard an’ straight. What chance would the 
man with the club hev had ?” 

“There were no Indians then, Jim.” 

“No Injuns then !” exclaimed Long Jim indignantly. 

''^hy the fust white man that ever come through these 
‘^ound the woods full uv ’em. I take a heap from 
1. ’cause you’re an eddicated boy, but I can’t 

fy 

to you some day,” said Paul laughing, 
38 


THE BIG GUNS 


"'but whether you believe me or not this place suits us” 

"How much venison have we got, Tom?’' asked 
Henry. , 

" ’Nough in a pinch to last three days.” 

"Now you fellers kin keep on talkin’ ef you want to,” 
said the shiftless one, "but ez fur me I’m a man o’ 
sense, a lazy man who don’t work when he don’t hev 
to, an’ I’m go in’ to sleep.” 

He spread his blanket on the stone floor, lay down 
and kept his word. 

"We might as well follow,” said Henry. "Sol’s a 
man of intelligence, and, as he says, when there's 
nothing to do, rest.” 

"I ain’t sleepy,” said Tom Ross. "Guess there’s no 
need uv a watch, but I’ll keep it awhile, anyhow.” 

He sat down on his blanket and leaned against the 
wall, near the mouth of the room. The others stretched 
out, even as Shif’less Sol had done, and breathing a 
sigh or two of satisfaction followed him into a land 
without dreams. 

Although Henry’s sleep was dreamless, it did not 
last very long. He awoke in three or four hours. It 
was quite dark, but, as he lay on his back and gazed 
steadily, he was able to make out the figure of Silent 
Tom, crouched on his blanket beside the door, his rifle 
across his knees. Although saying nothing Henry had 
paid attention to what Paul had said about the ancient 
cave man, and now it was easy for his fancy to trans- 
form Ross into such a being. The rifle on his knees 
was his stone club, and he watched by the opening all 
through the night lest an enemy should come. For the 


39 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


present, at least, it was as much reality as fancy, be- 
cause here was the cave, and here they were, guarding 
against a possible foe. 

‘‘Tom,” he called softly. 

Ross looked around. 

“What is it?” he asked. 

“Pm restless. I can’t sleep any more, and, as I’m 
going to stay by the opening, you’d better persuade 
yourself to go to sleep.” 

“Are you bent on watchin’, Henry?” 

“Yes, I intend to sit up.” 

“Then I’ll go to sleep.” 

He lay down on his blanket, and Henry took his place 
by the wall. 


CHAPTER III 


THE INDIAN CAMP 

T he position of the great youth was comfort- 
able, as he sat upon his blanket, the curve of 
the wall fitting into the curve of his back, his 
rifle resting across his knee, and his figure motionless. 
He carried in his belt a pistol, the keen hatchet of the 
border and also a long hunting knife, but it was the 
rifle upon which he depended mainly, a beautiful piece, 
with its carved stock and long blue barrel, and in the 
hands of its owner the deadliest weapon on the border. 

Henry, like Tom, did not stir. He was a match for 
any Indian in impassivity, and every nerve rested while 
he thus retained complete command over his body. He 
could see from his position the bushes beyond the open- 
ing, and, above them, a broad belt of black sky. He 
rejoiced again that they had found this cave or rather 
stone room as they called it. 

The dark heavens were full of threat, the air heavy 
with damp, and low thunder was just beginning to 
mutter. Tom Ross had read the gorgeous sunset 
aright. It betokened a storm, and the most hardened 
hurfters and scouts were glad of shelter when the great 


41 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


winds and rains came. The dryness and safety of the 
room made Henry feel all the more snug and content, 
in contrast with what was about to happen outside. It 
seemed to him that Providence had watched over 
them. Truly they had never known a finer or better 
place. 

His mind traveled again to those old, bygone people 
of whom Paul had talked, how they lived in caves, and 
had fought the great animals with stone clubs. But he 
had a better room in the stone than most of theirs, and 
the rifle on his knees was far superior to any club that 
was ever made. His nerves quivered beneath a thrill 
of pleasure that was both mental and physical. His 
eyes had learned to cope with the dusk in the room, and 
he could see his four comrades stretched upon their 
blankets. All were sleeping soundly and he would let 
them sleep on of their own accord, because there was 
no need now to move. 

The mutter of the thunder grew a little louder, as 
if the electricity were coming up on the horizon. And 
he saw lightning, dim at first and very distant, then 
growing brighter until it came, keen, hard and brilliant, 
in flashing strokes. Henry was not awed at all. Within 
his safe shelter his spirit leaped up to meet it. 

The thunder now broke near in a series of fierce 
crashes, and the lightning was so burning bright that 
it dazzled his eyes. One bolt struck near with a tre- 
mendous shock and the air was driven in violent waves 
into the very mouth of the cave. Shif’less Sol awoke 
and sat up. 

“A storm he said. 


42 


THE INDIAN CAMP 


^*Yes/" replied Henry, ‘‘but it can’t reach us here. 
You might as well go back to sleep, Sol.” 

“Bein’ a lazy man who knows how an’ when to be 
lazy,” said the shiftless one, “I’ll do it.” 

In a few minutes he was as sound asleep as ever, 
while Henry continued to watch the storm. The sky 
was perfectly black, save when the lightning blazed 
across it, and the thunder rolled and crashed with ex- 
traordinary violence. But he now heard an under note, 
one that he knew, the swish of the wind. It, too, grew 
fast and he dimly saw leaves and the branches of trees 
flying past. It was certainly good to be in the snug 
stone covert that he had found for himself and his 
friends ! 

The lightning became less bright and the thunder 
began to die. Then the wind came with a mighty 
sweep and roar and Henry heard the drops of rain, 
striking on leaf and bough like bullets. He also heard 
the crash of falling trees, and one was blown down 
directly in front of the opening, hiding it almost com- 
pletely. He was not sorry. Some instinct warned 
him that this too was a lucky chance. The rain came 
in driven torrents, but it passed the mouth of the cave 
and they were as dry and comfortable as ever. 

The thunder and lightning ceased entirely, by and 
by, and Henry sat in the dark listening to the rush of 
the rain, which came now in a strong and steady sweep 
like the waves of the sea. He listened to it a long time, 
never moving, and at last he saw a thin shade of gray 
appear in the eastern sky. Day was near, although it 
would be dark with the storm. But that need not 


43 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


trouble them. On the other hand it would be to their 
advantage. The great camp of the Indians would be 
broken up for a while, and they must long since have 
sought what shelter they could find. They could not 
advance for two or three days at least, while the five 
lay in a splendid covert only two miles from them. 

Laggard day came, with a dusky sky, obscured by 
heavy clouds and the rain still pouring. It was several 
hours after sunrise before it ceased and the sky began 
to clear. Then the others awoke and looked out. 

‘‘A big storm and I never heard a thing,” said Paul. 

“No, Paul,” said the shiftless one, “you didn’t hear 
it but it came off anyway. You’re a mighty good 
sleeper, you are, Paul. Put you atween fine white 
sheets, with a feather bed under your body an’ a silk 
piller under your head, an’ I reckon you’d sleep a week 
an’ be happy all the time.” 

“I suppose I would. It’s a sound conscience, Sol.” 

“I heard somethin’ once,” said Long Jim, “but 
knowin’ I wuz in the best place in the world I didn’t 
open my eyes. I jest went to sleep ag’in an’ now, ef 
thar wuz anythin’ to cook an’ any place to cook it I’d 
git the finest breakfast any uv you fellers ever et.” 

“We know that, Jim,” said Henry, “but we’ll have 
to stick to the dried venison for the present. You’ll 
find plenty of drinking water over there by the wall. 
Do you notice that our river has risen a full inch?” 

“So it has,” said Paul. “The rain, of course. Since 
we’ve had this noble inn I’m not sorry about the storm. 
It will stop the march of that Indian army.” 

“And also hide any trail that we may have left yes- 


44 


THE INDIAN CAMP 


terday or last night/' said Henry with satisfaction. 

“What do you think we ought to do now, Henry?” 
asked Shif less Sol. 

“Eat our breakfasts, that is, chew our venison. I 
don't believe we can do anything today, and there is 
no need, since the Indians can't move. We’ll stay here 
in hiding, and at night we'll go out again to explore.” 

“A whole day's rest,” said the shiftless one, with 
deep approval. “Nothin' to do but eat an' sleep, an' 
lay back here an' think. I'm not eddicated like you an’ 
Henry, Paul, but I kin do a power o' hard thinkin'. 
Now, ef Jim tries to think it makes his head ache so 
bad that he has to quit, but I guess he's lucky any- 
way, 'cause we’re always doin’ his thinkin’ fur him, 
while he's takin' his ease an' bein' happy.” 

“Ef I had been dependin' on your thinkin', Shif'Iess 
Sol,” said Long Jim, “my scalp would hev been bangin’ 
from an' Injun lodge pole long ago.” 

“Well, it would look well bangin' than You hev got 
good thick hair. Long Jim.” 

They finished their breakfast, and all of them sat 
down near the opening. The fallen tree, while it hid 
the aperture, did not cut off their own view. They 
were so close to it that they could see well between the 
boughs and leaves. The rising sun, brilliant and power- 
ful, had now driven away all the clouds. The sky was 
once more a shining blue, all the brighter because it had 
been washed and scoured anew by wind and rain. The 
green of the forest, dripping everywhere with water, 
looked deeper and more vigorous. Down in the valley 
they heard the foaming of a brook that had suddenly 


45 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


become a torrent, and which with equal suddenness 
would return to its usual size. 

They remained all day in their retreat, seeing thin 
threads of smoke three or four times against the blue 
sky, an indication that the warriors had built their 
campfires anew, and were trying to dry themselves out. 
Indians as well as white men suffer from rain and cold 
and Henry knew that they would be sluggish and care- 
less that night. There was a bare chance that the five 
might get at the cannon and ruin them in some manner, 
although they had not yet thought of a way. 

It was decided that Henry and Shiftless Sol should 
make the second expedition, Paul, Tom Ross and Long 
Jim remaining as a reserve within their stone walls. 
The two did not disturb the fallen tree at the entrance, 
but slipped out between the boughs, and walking on 
dead leaves and fallen brushwood, in order to leave 
as little trace as possible, reached the valley below. 
This low area of land was studded for a long distance 
with new pools of water, which would disappear 
the next day, and the ground was so soft that they 
took to the bordering forest in order to escape the 
mud. 

Tears likely to me,” said the. shiftless one, ‘‘that 
them Britishers had tents. They wouldn’t go on so 
long an expedition as this without ’em. It’s probable 
then that we’ll find the renegades in or about ’em.” 

“Sounds as if it might be that way,” said Henry. 
“The site of their camp is not more than a mile distant 
now, and the tents may be pitched somewhere in the 
woods.” 


46 


THE INDIAN CAMP 


“Reckon we're near, Henry, I smell smoke, and it's 
the smoke that comes out of a pipe." 

“I smell it too. It's straight ahead. It must be one 
of the officers. We'll have to be slow and mighty 
particular. There's a big moon and all the stars are 
out.” 

The night, as if to atone for the one that had gone 
before, was particularly brilliant. The dripping woods 
were luminous with silvery moonlight and the three 
used every tree and bush as they approached the point 
from which the tobacco smoke came. The woods were 
so dense there that they heard the men before they 
saw them. It was first a hum of voices and then 
articulated words. 

“It seems that these forest expeditions are not to be 
taken lightly, Wyatt,” said a heavy growling voice. 

“No, Colonel Alloway,” Braxton Wyatt replied in 
smooth tones. “There are no roads in the wilderness. 
If we want one we'll have to make it. It’s the cannon 
that hold us back.” 

“The Indians could move fast without them.” 

“Yes, sir, but w^e must have 'em. We can't break 
through the palisades without 'em.” 

“Why, young sir, these red warriors can annihilate 
anything to be found in Kentucky !" 

“They did not do it, sir, when we attacked Ware- 
ville last year.” 

“Lack of leadership ! Lack of leadership !" 

“If you'll pardon me, sir, I don’t think it was. The- 
Indians have to fight in their own way, and the Ken- 
tucky riflemen are the best in the world. Why, sir, the 


47 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


things they can do with their rifles are amazing. A 
musket is like an old-fashioned arquebus compared 
with their long-barreled weapons. I know one of them 
— and I must say it, though I hate him — who could kill 
running deer at two hundred yards, as fast as you could 
hand him the rifles, never missing a shot.'^ 

“A William Tell of the woods, so to speak said the 
heavy, gruff voice, sounding an incredulous note. 

“You’ll believe me, sir, if you meet ’em,” said Wyatt 
earnestly. ‘T don’t love ’em any more’n you do, much 
less perhaps, but I’ve learned enough to dread their 
rifles. I was telling you about the one who is such a 
terrible marksman, though the others are nearly as 
good. Last night before the rain one of the Wyandots 
found the trace of a footstep in the forest. It was a 
trace, nothing more, and not even an Indian could fol- 
low it, but I’ve an idea that it’s the very sharpshooter I 
was telling you about.” 

“And what of it? Why should we care an3rthing for 
a stray backwoodsman.” 

“He’s very dangerous, very dangerous, sir, I repeat, 
and he’s sure to have four others with him.” 

“And who are the dreadful five ?” There was a note 
of irony in the voice. 

“The one of whom I spoke is named Henry Ware. 
There is another, a youth of about his own age, named 
Paul Cotter. The third is Solomon Hyde, a man of 
amazing skill and judgment The other two are Tom 
Ross, a wonderful scout and hunter, and Long Jim 
Hart, the fastest runner in the West. It was he who 
brought relief, when we had the emigrant train trapped. 


THE INDIAN CAMP 


I think that all the five are somewhere near and that 
we should beware/’ 

The heavy, gruff voice was lifted again in an ironic ' 
laugh, and Henry, creeping a yard or two more, saw 
through the leaves the whole group. The English offi- 
cer whom Wyatt had called Alloway, was a man of 
middle years, heavily built. His confident face and 
aggressive manner indicated that he was some such 
man as Braddock, who in spite of every warning by the 
colonials, walked with blinded eyes into the Indian 
trap at Fort Duquesne, to have his army and himself 
slaughtered. But now the English were allied with 
the scalp-takers. 

A half-dozen English officers, younger men, sur- 
rounded Colonel Alloway, silent and attentive, while 
their chief talked with Wyatt. The older renegade, 
Blackstaffe, was leaning against a tree', his arms folded 
across his chest, a sneering look upon his face. Henry 
knew that he thought little of European officers there 
in the woods, and out of their element. 

But the most striking figures in the scene were Yel- 
low Panther, head chief of the Miamis, and Red Eagle, 
head chief of the Shawnees. They stood erect with 
arms folded, and they had not spoken either while 
Alloway and Wyatt talked. They were imposing men, 
not as tall as the young chief whom Henry had seen 
distantly, and who was destined to have a great part 
in his life later on, but they were uncommonly broad 
of shoulders and chest, and, though elderly they were 
at the very height of their mental and physical powers. 

They were in full war paint, their scalp locks were 


49 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


braided and each had flung about him somewhat in the 
manner of a Roman toga a magnificent blanket of the 
finest weave, blue for Yellow Panther, red for Red 
Eagle. 

Wyatt translated to them Alloway’s words, and Red 
Eagle at length raising his hand said to Wyatt in 
Shawnee, which all three of the hidden scouts under- 
stood perfectly : 

‘Tell our white ally that his words are not those of 
wisdom. The Indian when he goes upon the war path 
does not laugh at his enemy. He knows that he is not 
fighting with children and he heeds the warnings of 
those who understand.’^ 

His tones were full of dignity, but Wyatt, when he 
translated, softened the rebuke. Nevertheless enough 
of it was left to make the arrogant Colonel start a little, 
and gaze with some apprehension at the two massive 
and silent figures, regarding him so steadily. It was 
likely too that the grim forest, the overwhelming char- 
acter of the wilderness in which he stood, affected him. 
Without the Indians he and his men would be lost in 
that mighty sweep of country. 

“Tell the officers of the King, across the great salt 
water,” continued Red Eagle to Wyatt, “that the word 
has come to us that if we go and destroy the settle- 
ments of the Yengtes, lest they grow powerful and 
help their brethren in the East who are fighting against 
the King called George, we are to receive great re- 
wards. We use the tomahawk for him as well as for 
ourselves, and while we listen to Alloway here, Allo- 
way must listen also to us.” 


50 


THE INDIAN CAMP 


Wyatt veiled his look of satisfaction. He had not 
fancied the haughty and patronizing manner of 
Alloway, and he was sure that the Colonel was making 
too little of the five and their possible proximity. De- 
spite himself, and the young renegade was bold, he felt 
a shiver of apprehension lest the formidable group were 
somewhere near in the woods. But he added, speaking 
in a more persuasive tone to Alloway : 

‘‘You’ll pardon me, sir, but the Indian chiefs are in 
their own country. They’re proud and resolute men, 
trusting in their own methods, and they must be hu- 
mored. If you don’t defer somewhat to them it’s quite 
possible that they’ll take all their warriors and go back 
to their villages.” 

Alloway’s face grew red with anger, but he had 
enough wisdom and resolution to suppress it. He 
looked around at the vast and somber forest, in which 
one could be lost so easily, and knew that he must do so. 

“Very well,” he said, “the chiefs and I lead jointly. 
Ask them what they want.” 

Wyatt talked with the two chiefs and then translated : 

“They wish to stop here a day or two, until they can 
obtain new supplies of food. They wish to send out 
all of their best trailers in search of the scout called 
Ware and his comrades. They are dangerous, and 
also Yellow Panther and Red Eagle have bitter cause 
to hate them, as have I.” 

“Very well, then,” said Alloway, making the best of 
it. “We’ll halt while the warriors brush away these 
wasps, whom you seem to fear so much.” • 

He walked away, followed by his men, and Henry 


51 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


and Shif’less Sol drew back in the thicket. They were 
flattered by Braxton Wyatt’s frank admission of their 
power, but they were annoyed that the footprint had 
been seen. Henry had felt that they could work much 
better, if the warriors were unaware of their presence. 

‘‘Those two chiefs will act quickly,” he whispered to 
his comrade. “Maybe they had already sent out the 
trailers, before they had the talk with the officer. It’s 
possible that they’re now between us and our new home 
in the cliff. It’s always best to have a plan, and if they 
pick up our trail I’ll run toward the east, and draw 
them off, while you make your way back to Paul and 
Jim and our room in the cliff.” 

“You let me make the chase,” said Shi f ’less Sol, 
protestingly. “They can’t ketch me.” 

“No! We’ve pretty well agreed upon our different 
tasks, and this, you know, is mine.” 

The shiftless one was well aware that Henry was the 
most fitting, yet he was more than anxious to take the 
chief danger upon himself. But he said nothing more, 
as they withdrew slowly, and with the utmost caution, 
through the woods. Twice, the red trailers passed near 
them, and they flattened themselves against the ground 
to escape observation. Henry did not believe now that 
they could regain the stone room without a flight or a 
fight, as he was confirmed in his belief that Red Eagle 
and Yellow Panther had sent out numerous trailers, 
before their talk with the English colonel. 

A quarter of a mile away, and they were forced to 
lie down in a gully among sodden leaves and hold their 
breath while two Shawnees passed. Henry saw them 


52 


THE INDIAN CAMP 


through the screening bushes on the bank of the gully, 
their questing eyes eager and fierce. At the first trace 
of a trail, they would utter the war whoop and call the 
horde upon the fugitives. But they saw nothing and 
flitted away among the bushes. 

^‘Cornin' purty close,’’ whispered Shif’less Sol, as 
they rose and resumed their progress. ‘‘Warm, purty 
warm, mighty warm, hot! The next time they’ll jest 
burn their hands on us.” 

“Maybe there’ll be no next time,” said Henry as they 
approached the edge of a brook. But the bank, softened 
by the rain, crumbled beneath them, and the “next 
time” had come almost at once. 

Although they did not fall, their feet went into the 
stream with a splash that could be heard many yards 
away. From three points came fierce triumphant 
shouts, and then they heard the low swish of mocca- 
sined feet running fast. 

“Remember,” said Henry, rapidly, “hide your trail 
and curve about until you reach the hidden home. Wait 
there for me !” 

He was gone in an instant, turning off at a sharp 
angle into the bushes, leading directly away from the 
cliff. Now the young superman of the forest sum- 
moned all his faculties. He called to his service his 
immense strength and agility, his extreme acuteness of 
sight and hearing, and his almost supernatural power 
of divination, the outgrowth of a body and mind so 
perfectly attuned for forest work. 

No fear that he would be caught entered his mind. 
Alone in the forest he could double and turn as he 


53 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


chose, and there was no Indian so fleet of foot that he 
could overtake him. A wild and exultant spirit flowed 
up in him. He was the hunted. Nevertheless it was 
sport to him to be followed thus. He laughed low and 
under his breath, and then, swelling the cords in his 
throat, he gave utterance to a cry so tremendous in 
volume that it rang like the echo of a cannon shot 
through the wilderness. But, after the Indian fash- 
ion, he permitted it to die in a long, fierce note like the 
whine of a wolf. 

It was an extraordinary cry, full of challenge and 
mockery. It said to those who should hear, that they 
might come on, if they would, but they would come on 
a vain errand. It taunted them, and aroused every 
kind of anger in their breasts. No Indian could remain 
calm under that cry and every one of them knew what 
it meant. Their ferocious shouts replied, and then 
Henry swung forward in the long easy gait of the 
woodsman. 

Mind and muscle were under perfect control. While 
he ran he saw everything in the bright moonlight and 
heard everything. He made no effort to conceal his 
trail, because he wanted it to be seen and he knew that 
the entire pursuit was strung out behind him. Prob- 
ably ShiPless Sol was already safe within the stone 
walls. 

Lest the trail itself should not be enough he again 
uttered the defiant cry that thrilled through the forest, 
returning in many echoes. He listened for the answer- 
ing shouts of the warriors, and felt relieved when they 
came. The spirit that was shooting through his veins 


54 


THE INDIAN CAMP 


became wilder and wilder. His blood danced and he 
laughed once more under his breath, as wild as any 
of the wild men of the forest. 

He was racing along a low ridge from which the 
rain had run rapidly, leaving fairly firm ground. Once 
more he disturbed the thickets. Startled wild animals 
sprang up as the giant young figure sped past. A rabbit 
leaped from under his raised foot. A huge owl looked 
down with red, distended eyes at the flying youth, and, 
in the face of the unknown, using the wisdom that is 
the owl’s own, flew heavily away from the forest. Some 
pigeons, probably a part of the same flock that he 
had seen, rose with a whirr from a bough and 
streamed off in a black line among the trees. The 
undergrowth was filled with whimperings, and little 
rustlings, and Henry, who felt so closely akin to wild 
life, would have told them now if he could that they 
were in no danger. It was he, not they, who was 
being pursued. 

He caught a glimpse of a dusky figure aiming a rifle. 
Quickly he bent low and the bullet whistled over his 
head. Catching his own rifle by the barrel he swung 
the stock heavily and the red trailer lay still in the 
undergrowth. A little farther on a second fired at him, 
and now he sent his own bullet in reply. The warrior 
fell back with a cry of pain to which his pursuing com- 
rades answered, and Henry for a third time sent forth 
his fierce, dei^ant shout. Those whom he had met 
must have been hunters coming in. 

He reloaded his rifle, running, and kept a wary eye 
as he passed into the canebrake. But he believed now 


55 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAEL, 


that he had left behind the outermost fringe of the 
scouts and trailers. He would encounter nobody lying 
in ambush, and, after making his way for a long time 
through the dense thickets, he sat down on a little 
mound to rest and observe. 

He knew that the nearest of the warriors was at least 
four or five hundred yards away, and that none could 
come within rifle shot without his knowledge. So, he 
sat quite still, taking deep breaths, and was without 
apprehension. He was not really weary, the long 
swinging run had not been much more than exercise, 
but he wanted to look about and see the nature of the 
land. 

The canebrake extended a great distance, but he saw 
far beyond it the black shadow of forest, in the inter- 
minable depths of which he might easily lose himself 
if the pursuit continued. Whether it continued or not 
was a matter of sheer indifference to him. He had 
drawn them far enough, but if they wished to go farther 
he would be the hunted again, although it might be 
dangerous for the hunters. 

He saw the crests of the cane waving a little, and, 
rising, he resumed the race on easy foot, passing 
through the canebrake, and entering the forest, in which 
there was much rough, rocky ground. Here he leaped 
lightly from stone to stone, until he knew the trail was 
broken beyond the possibility of finding, when he sat 
down between two great upthrust roots c’/f an oak and 
leaned back against turf and trunk togetl* er. He knew 
that the green of his deerskins blended perfectly with 
the grass, and he felt so thoroughly convinced that the 


THE INDIAN CAMP 


pursuit had stopped that he decided to remain there for 
the night. 

He unrolled the blanket from his back, put it about 
his shoulders, and then he laughed again at the suc- 
cessful trick that he had played upon these fierce red 
warriors. It had been an easy task, too. Save the two 
hasty shots from the trailers he had never been in seri- 
ous danger, and now, as he rested comfortably, he ate 
a little more of the dried venison from his knapsack. 
Then he fell asleep. 

The hours of the night passed peacefully. The soft 
turf supported his back, and only his head was against 
the trunk of the tree. It was a comfortable position 
for a seasoned forest runner. Toward morning the 
wind rose and began to sing through the spring foliage. 
Its song grew louder, and before it was yet dawn Henry 
awoke and listened to it. Like the Indian he heard the 
voice of the Great Spirit in the wind, and now it came 
to him with a warning note. 

He stretched his limbs a little and stood up, his hand 
on the hammer of his rifle. The darkness that precedes 
the dawn covered the woods, but he could see some dis- 
tance into it, and he saw nothing. He listened a long 
time, and as the dusk began to thin away before the sun 
he heard a low chant. He knew that it was an Indian 
song, a song of triumph, coming from the south, and 
for a while he was puzzled. 

Clearly, this was no part of the great war band, 
which lay to the north of him, and he concluded that 
it must be a small expedition which had already gone 
into the South and which was now returning. But he 


57 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAEL 


did not like the character of the song. It indicated 
victory and he thrilled with horror and repulsion. The 
triumph must be over people of his own race. 

The blood in every vein grew hot with anger, and 
the pulses in his temples beat so hard that for a while 
it made a little singing in his head. The great figure 
stiffened and a menacing look came into his eyes. 

The chant was fast growing louder and the singers 
would pass within a few feet of his tree. He slipped 
aside, turning away a hundred yards or so, and 
crouched behind dense bushes. The singers came on, 
about twenty warriors in single file, Shawnees by their 
paint, and the first three brandished aloft three hideous 
trophies. Henry had more than suspected, but the 
reality made him shudder. 

The three scalps were obviously those of white peo- 
ple, and the first, long, thick, blonde and fine, was that 
of a woman. The warrior who waved it aloft, as he 
chanted, wore only the breech cloth, his naked body 
painted in many colors, and he exulted as he displayed 
his trophy, so fine to his savage heart. 

A mighty rage seized Henry. For a moment his 
eyes were clouded by the red mist that danced before 
them. The song of the wind before the dawn had 
aroused him to his coming danger, but there was noth- 
ing to tell the triumphant savage that his hour was at 
hand. 

The red mist cleared away from the great youth’s 
eyes. The blood lately so hot in his veins became as 
cold as ice, and the pulses in his temples sank to their 
normal beat. Mind and nerves were completely attuned 

58 


THE INDIAN CAMP 


and he was a perfect instrument of vengeance. The 
rifle rose to his shoulder and he looked down the sights 
at a tiny bear painted in blue directly over the warrior’s 
heart. Then he pulled the trigger and so deadly was 
his aim that the savage sank down without a cry, and 
the scalp fell and lay upon his own body, the long hair 
reddening fast with the blood that flowed from the 
warrior’s heart. 

Henry turned instantly and darted into the depths 
of the forest, reloading as usual as he ran. A single 
backward glance had shown him that the warriors, con- 
fused and puzzled at first, were standing in an excited 
group, looking down at their dead comrade. He knew 
they would recover quickly and to hasten the moment 
he uttered that long, thrilling cry of defiance. 

He was willing for them to pursue, in truth he was 
anxious that they should. He had marked the other 
two warriors who waved the scalps, and he now had 
a cold and settled purpose. He intentionally made 
noise as he ran, letting the boughs of bushes fly back 
with a swish and soon he heard the Indians, two or 
three hundred yards away. 

He knew that their muskets or smooth bores could 
not reach him at the range and that his rifle had over 
them, an advantage of at least fifty yards. He let them 
come a little nearer, and, as the country was now more 
open they saw him and uttered cries of mingled rage 
and triumph. They were gaining perceptibly and they 
felt certain of capture. 

The fugitive permitted them to come a little nearer, 
and he watched them out of the corner of one eye. The 


59 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


second man in the pursuing group, a tall thin warrior, 
had been waving a scalp. Even now it was swinging 
at his belt, and as they gained, yard by yard, Henry 
wheeled for a second or two and shot the scalp-bearer 
through the head. 

Then he increased his speed, reloaded his rifle once 
more, and sent back that taunting cry which he knew 
inflamed the savage heart with ferocity and the desire 
for vengeance. The Indians had hesitated, but now 
they uttered the war whoop all together, and came on 
at their utmost speed. Henry noted the third scalp- 
bearer. He was a short, powerful fellow, but he did 
not have speed enough to keep himself in front. But 
Henry was resolved that he too should suffer. 

They were running now through forest compara- 
tively free from undergrowth. The fugitive stumbled 
suddenly and then limped for a step or two. The simul- 
taneous yell of the Indians was fierce and exultant, but 
the rifle of the great youth flashed, and the short, broad 
warrior was gone to join his two comrades. 

Then the speed of the fugitive increased at a great 
rate, and, as the warriors were no longer anxious to 
pursue, he soon disappeared in the forest. 


CHAPTER IV 


THE DEED IN THE WATER 

H ENRY’S pace sank into a long walk, but he did 
not stop for two hours. Then he drank at one 
of the innumerable brooks and lay down in 
the forest. His adventure with the returning war 
party made him think much. It was likely that other 
small bands had gone on the great adventure in the 
south. The young warriors, in particular, were likely 
to take to the scalp trail. It furnished them with ex- 
citement and at the same time destroyed the intruders 
upon their great hunting grounds. 

He was tempted to rejoin his comrades and go south 
at once with a warning, but second thought told him 
that the chief danger lay in the great war band under 
Yellow Panther and Red Eagle. He would adhere to 
his original plan and seek to destroy the cannon. 

He resolved to return at night, and since he had 
plenty of time he shot a small deer, taking all chances, 
and cooked tender steaks over a fire that he lit with 
his flint and steel. It refreshed him greatly, and put- 
ting other choice portions in his knapsack he started 
back on a wide curve, leaving the smoldering coals to 


6i 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


arouse the curiosity of any one who might see them. 

It was now the second day after the great storm, and 
earth and the forest had dried completely. Henry, 
stepping lightly on the firm earth, and always using 
every stone or log or brook to hide any possible trace, 
had little fear of leaving a trail that even the keenest 
Indian could follow. But he picked up several trails 
himself. One was that of a small party coming from 
the east, and he thought they might be Wyandots bound 
for the great camp. Another had the imprints of two 
pairs of boots, mingled with the light traces of moc- 
casins, and he knew that they were made by English 
soldiers, doubtless gunners, coming also with their 
Indian comrades to join the great camp. 

Nothing escaped his notice. He knew that not far 
to the eastward ran one of the great rivers that emptied 
into the Ohio, flowing northward, and he began to 
wonder why the band did not use it for the transport of 
the cannon, at least part of the way. Indians were usu- 
ally well provided with canoes, and by lashing some of 
the stoutest together they could make a support strong 
enough for the twelve pounders. It was an idea worth 
considering, and he and his comrades would watch the 
stream. Then it occurred to him that he might go there 
now, and see if any movement in that direction had 
been begun by the warriors. The other four undoubt- 
edly would remain in their little stone fortress, until he 
returned, or even if they should venture forth they 
knew all the ways of the forest, and could take care 
of themselves. 

To think of it was to act at once, and he began a 
62 


THE DEED IN THE WATER 


great curve toward the east, slackening speed and await- 
ing the light, under cover of which he could work to 
far bette r effect and with much greater safety. 

Towa *d sunset he came upon a trail made by mocca- 
sins and two pairs of boots, and he surmised that it was 
Alloway and one of his young officers who had passed 
that way with the Indians. As they were going toward 
the river it confirmed him in his conjecture that they 
intended to use it, at least in part, for their advance 
into Kentucky. 

There had been no effort to hide the trail. What 
need had they to do so? Even with the belief that the 
five were in the vicinity they were in too large numbers 
to fear attack, and Henry, following in their footsteps, 
read all their actions plainly. 

They were not walking very fast. The shortness 
between one footprint and the next proved it, and their 
slowness was almost a sure indication that the party 
included Yellow Panther and Red Eagle, or at least one 
of them. They did not go faster, because they were 
talking, and Alloway would have discussed measures 
only with the chiefs. 

At one point four pairs of footsteps turned aside a 
little, and stopped in front of a large fallen log. Two 
of the traces were made by moccasins and two by boots. 
So, the two pairs of moccasins indicated that both chiefs 
were present. The four had sat on the log and talked 
some time. In the crevices of the bank he found traces 
of thin ash. The British officer therefore had lighted 
his pipe and smoked there, further proof that it had 
been a conference of length. 

63 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


The warriors had remained in a group on the right, 
thirty or forty yards away, and several of them had 
lain down, the crushed grass showing faint trices of 
their figures. Two small bones of the deer, recently 
covered with cooked flesh, indicated that several of 
them had used the opportunity to eat their supper. 

Unquestionably the movement intended by the white 
leader and the red chiefs was important, or they would 
not stop to talk about it so long. Hence it must mean 
the transportation of the cannon by water. He could 
not think of anything else that would divert them from 
the main route. 

About two miles farther on another trail joined the 
one that he was following. It was made wholly by 
moccasins, but it was easy enough for him to discern 
among them two pairs, the toes of which turned out- 
ward. These moccasins, of course, were worn by 
Blackstaffe and Wyatt, who, whatever the British 
colonel may have thought of them, were nevertheless 
of the greatest importance, as intermediaries between 
him and the Indian chiefs. 

A few yards beyond the junction they had stopped 
and talked a little, but they had not sat down. Never- 
theless they had consulted earnestly as the footsteps 
were in an irregular group, showing that they had 
moved about nervously as they talked. Then they 
walked on, but the moccasins moved forward in a much 
straighter and more precise manner than the boots, 
which were now veering a little from side to side. The 
two British officers, not trained to it like the others, 
were growing weary from the long walk through the 

64 


THE DEED IN THE WATER' 


^oods. But they persevered. Although they sagged 
more the trail led on, and, after a while, Henry saw a 
light, which he knew to be a campfire, and which he 
surmised was on the bank of the river. 

The night was fairly dark and under cover of bushes 
he approached until he could see. Then all his sur- 
mises were confirmed. The campfire was large and 
around it sat Alloway, the younger officer. Red Eagle 
and Yellow Panther, and at a little distance about 
twenty warriors. The two Englishmen seemed utterly 
exhausted, while the others showed no signs of weari- 
ness. 

‘T admit, Wyatt, that walking seven or eight miles 
through the primeval wilderness is no light task,’^ said 
Alloway, wiping his red, perspiring face. 

His tone was not haughty and patronizing. He felt 
just then, in this particular work, that he was not the 
equal of the renegades and the warriors. Henry saw a 
faint ironic smile upon the face of each of the rene- 
gades> and he understood and appreciated their little 
triumph. 

“You would do better. Colonel,’^ said Blackstaffe 
suavely, “to wear moccasins in place of those heavy 
boots. They carry you over the ground much more 
lightly, and we have to follow the ways of the wilder- 
ness.’' 

The irritable red of Alio way’s face turned to a deeper 
tint, but he controlled himself. 

“Doubtless you are right, Blackstaffe,” he said, “but 
we are here at last.” 

Wyatt had been speaking in a low tone to the chiefs, 
65 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAHL 


and it inflamed a choleric man like Alloway to hear 
anyone saying words that he could not understand. 
He was not able to restrain himself wholly a second 
time. 

‘‘What is it, man ? What is it that you’re saying to 
the chiefs ?” he exclaimed. 

“I was merely telling them,” replied Wyatt, “that 
you and your aide. Lieutenant Cartwright, had been 
made weary by the long walk through the woods, and 
that we’d better let you rest a little before going down 
to inspect the canoes.” 

A blaze of anger appeared in Alloway ’s eyes, but the 
younger officer who had been watching his chief with 
some apprehension, said deferentially : 

“Suppose, sir, that we do as they suggest. Cam- 
paigning in this wilderness is not like fighting on the 
open fields of Europe.” 

They all sat down about the fire, and venison, jerked 
buffalo meat and roasted grain were served to them. 
The two chiefs were silent, and, holding themselves 
with dignity, were impressive. Presently one of them 
took from under his deerskin tunic a pipe, with a long 
stem, and a bowl, carved beautifully. He crowded 
some tobacco into it, put a live coal on top and took 
two or three long puffs. Then he passed it to the other 
chief who after doing the same handed it to Colonel 
Alloway. 

The officer hesitated, not seeming to understand the 
meaning of the pipe at that particular time, and Wyatt 
said, maliciously: 

“The pipe of peace, sir !” 


66 


THE DEED IN THE WATER 


“Why should we smoke a pipe of peace when we’re 
already allies ?” 

“A little feeling has been shown on our march 
through the woods to the river. Indians, sir, are very 
sensitive. These two chiefs. Yellow Panther and Red 
Eagle, are the heads of powerful tribes, and if their 
feelings are hurt in any manner they will resent it, 
even to the point of withdrawing all their warriors and 
returning north of the Ohio. I suggest, sir, that you 
smoke the pipe at once, and return it to them.” 

Colonel Alloway did so, Cartwright took it readily, 
after them the two renegades smoked, and thus it was 
passed around the circle. It came back to Red Eagle, 
who knocked the coals out of the pipe and then 
gravely returned it to its resting place. 

Henry had watched it all with eager attention, and 
when the little ceremony, was finished he made another 
short circle through the bushes that brought him close 
to the river, where he saw about twenty canoes and 
two boats much larger, built stoutly and apparently able 
to sustain a great weight. He knew at once that they 
were intended for the cannon and that they had been 
brought down the Ohio and then up the tributary 
stream. Both had oars and he surmised that the white 
gun crews would use them, since the Indians were 
familiar only with the paddle. These boats, scows he 
would have called them, were tied to the bank and were 
empty. Some of the canoes were empty also, but in 
seven or eight, Indian warriors were lying asleep. 

He was quite certain that the cannon would be 
brought up the next day, and be loaded on the scows, 

67 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


and he wished now for the presence of his comrades. 
The five together might accomplish something real 
before the dawn, and then he resolved that since he was 
alone he would attempt it alone. He withdrew to a 
considerable distance, and lay down in the bushes, very 
close. 

It was hard to think of a plan that seemed feasible, 
and he concentrated his mind upon it until his brain 
began to feel inflamed, as if with a fever. But the idea 
came at last. It was full of danger, and it called for 
almost supernatural skill, but he believed that he could 
do it. Then the fever went out of his brain and the 
tension of his nerves relaxed. He felt himself imbued 
with new strength and courage, and his soul rose to its 
task. 

He saw the two officers, the renegades and the chiefs 
come down to the edge of the river, and talk with the 
warriors there. No very strict watch was kept, be- 
cause none seemed to be needed. Then blankets were 
spread for them under the trees, and they went to sleep. 
Most of the warriors followed their example, and not 
more than three or four sentinels were left on watch. 
These three or four, however, would have eyes to see 
in the darkness and ears to hear when a leaf fell. 

But Henry did not sleep. He was never more wide- 
awake. He made his way carefully through the bushes 
farther up the stream to a point where he noticed the 
last canoe lying empty near the shore, almost hidden 
in the shadows cast on the water by the overhanging 
boughs. 

He came to a point parallel with it and not more 
68 


THE DEED IN THE WATER 


than ten feet away, and critically examining the river 
saw that the water was quite deep there, which suited 
his purpose. The light craft was held merely by a 
slender piece of bark rope. Then he began the most 
perilous part of his task. He returned toward the 
sleeping officers and chiefs, and, lying flat upon the 
ground in the deep grass and heavy shadows, began 
slowly to worm himself forward. It was a thing that 
no one could have accomplished without great natural 
aptitude, long training and infinite patience. He knew 
that risk of detection existed, but he calculated that, if 
seen, he might be up and away before any one of his 
enemies could find time for a good shot. 

The Englishmen in particular were the mark at 
which he aimed. He had noticed that the younger one 
carried a large horn of powder and he was likely to 
be careless about it, a belief that was verified as he 
drew near. The Englishman had taken off his belt, 
bullet pouch and powder horn, all of which now lay on 
the ground near him. 

A long arm was suddenly thrust from the grass and 
a hand closing on the powder horn took it away. 
Henry felt that it was well filled and heavy and he 
glowed with triumph. The first link in his chain had 
been forged. He crept back into the bushes, and 
stopped there twice, lying very still. He saw the In- 
dian sentinels moving about a little, but evidently they 
suspected nothing. They were merely changing posi- 
tions and quickly relapsed into silence and stillness. 

It was fully half an hour before Henry was back at 
his place opposite the swinging little canoe. Then he 

69 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


shook the powder horn triumphantly, put it down at 
the foot of a tree and covered it up with some leaves. 
As he did so he noticed that many of last year’s leaves 
were quite dry and he remembered it. 

Then he went back to forge the second link, which 
was not so difficult. The fire around which the white 
men and the chiefs had eaten their supper was a little 
distance back of the present camp, where he was quite 
sure that it was still smoldering, although deserted. 
He found a stick the end of which was yet a live coal, 
and circling a little wider on his return he came back 
to the powder horn. 

Henry held the live point of the stick close to the 
ground where it could not cast a glow that the sentinels 
might see, and then waited a minute or so before taking 
any further action. Two links of the chain had been 
forged and he felt now that he would carry it to its 
full length and success. He had never been more 
skillful, never more in command of all his faculties, 
and they had never worked in more perfect coordina- 
tion. There had never been a more perfect type of the 
human physical machine. Nature, in one of her happy 
moods, had lavished upon him all her gifts and now 
he was using them to the utmost, turning his ten 
talents into twenty. 

The third link would be one of great difficulty, much 
harder than the bringing of the fire, and that was the 
reason why he was considering so well. He could 
discern the figures of three of the sentinels on land. 
Two of them were brawny warriors naked to the waist, 
and painted heavily. The third was quite young. 


70 


THE DEED IN THE WATER 


younger than himself, a mere boy, perhaps on his first 
war path. Henry understood the feelings of hope and 
ambition that probably animated the Indian boy and 
he trusted that they would not come into conflict. 

The sentinels were walking about, and when the one 
nearest him turned and moved away he gathered up 
quickly fallen brushwood which lay kiln-dry at the 
river’s brink. Then he hid his rifle, other weapons 
and ammunition in the grass. For a brief space he 
must go unarmed, because he could not be cumbered 
in an effort to keep them dry. 

Carrying the powder horn, the dry sticks and the 
one lighted at the end, he dropped silently into the 
water and managed with one arm to swim the few feet 
that separated him from the canoe. Then he passed 
around it, putting it between him and the land, and 
carefully lifted everything inside. He knew that the 
dry wood would burn fast when he placed the torch 
against it, and he put the horn full of powder very 
near. 

Then he sank low in the water behind the canoe, 
and listened until he heard the faint sputter of the fire 
in the dry wood. Now new difficulties arose. He must 
time everything exactly, and for the sake of his enter- 
prise and his own life he must keep the Indian alarm 
from coming too soon. , 

The sputtering was not yet loud enough for the 
warriors on the bank to hear it, and he ventured to rise 
high enough for another look over the edge of the 
canoe. In two minutes, he calculated, the fire would 
reach the powder horn. Then he drew from his belt 


71 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 

his hunting knife, the only weapon that he had not 
discarded, and cut the withe that held the canoe. 

Burying himself in the water to the nose he sent 
his fire ship down the stream toward the two scows 
intending for it to enter just between them. Now he 
needed all his skill and complete command over his 
will. The sputtering of the fire increased, and he knew 
that it was rapidly approaching the horn of powder. 
The flesh had an almost irresistible desire to draw 
away at once and swim for life, but an immense reso- 
lution held his body to its yet uncompleted task. 

The canoe was moving with such a slight ripple 
that not an Indian sentinel had yet heard, but when it 
was within ten yards of its destination one happened 
to look over the river and see it moving. There would 
have been nothing curious in a canoe breaking its 
slender thong and floating with the current, but this 
one was floating against it. The Indian uttered a 
surprised exclamation and instantly called the attention 
of his comrades. 

Henry knew that the supreme moment was at hand. 
The Indian warning had come, and the sputtering told 
him that the fire was almost at the powder horn. 
Giving his fire ship a mighty shove he sent it directly 
between the scows and then he made a great dive down 
and away. He swam under water as long as he could, 
and just as he was coming to the surface he heard and 
saw the explosion. 

The two scows and the canoe seemed to leap into the 
air in the center of a volcano of light, and then all 
three came down in a rain of hissing and steaming 


72 


THE DEED IN THE WATER 


fragments. The crash was stunning, and the light for 
a moment or two was intense. Then it sank almost 
as suddenly and again came the darkness, in which 
Henry heard the steaming of burning wood, the tur- 
moil of riven waters and the shouts of warriors filled 
with surprise and alarm. 

It was easy in all the confusion for him to reach 
the bank, recover his arms and speed into the forest. 
He had forged with complete success every link in his 
chain of destruction. The scows intended for the 
transportation of the cannon were blown to splinters,, 
and while they might lash enough canoes together to 
sustain their weight, they must move slowly and at 
much risk. 

Although he was dripping with water, Henry was 
supremely happy. When he undertook this feat he had 
believed that he would succeed, but looking back at it 
now it seemed almost incredible. But here he was, 
and the deed was done. He laughed to himself in silent 
pleasure. Wyatt, Blackstaffe and the others would 
undoubtedly trace it to him and his comrades, and he 
hoped they would. He was willing for them to know 
that the five were not only on watch but could act with 
terrific effect. 

A half-mile away from the river and he heard a long 
fierce yell, uttered by many voices in unison. He knew 
they had picked up at the edge of the stream the tale 
that he had not sought to hide, and were hoping now 
for revenge upon the one who had cost them so much. 
But he laughed once more back of his teeth. In the 
darkness they might as well try to follow a bird of 


73 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


the air. He curved away, reached one of the numerous 
brooks intersecting the stream, and ran for a long time 
in its bed. Then he emerged, passed into a dense cane- 
brake and stopped, where he took off his wet clothing 
and spread it out in the dark to dry. The blanket 
which he had left on the bank with his arms was 
warm and dry and he wrapped it around his body. 
Then he lay down with his weapons by his side. 

The satisfied blood ran swiftly and proudly in the 
veins of the great forest runner. He had done other 
deeds as bold, but perhaps none as delicate as this. 
It had demanded a complete combination of courage 
and dexterity and perfect timing. A second more or 
less might have ruined everything. He could imagine 
the chagrin of the choleric colonel. Unless Wyatt 
and Blackstaffe restrained him he might break forth 
into complaints and abuse and charge the Indians with 
negligence, a charge that the haughty chiefs would 
repudiate at once and with anger. Then a break might 
follow. 

Whether the break came or not he had insured 
a delay, and since the cannon could not yet be put upon 
the river he might find a way to get at them. He 
rolled on one side, made himself comfortable on the 
dead leaves and then heard the wind blowing a song of 
triumph through the cane. He fell asleep to the 
musical note, but awoke at dawn. 

His clothing was dry, and, unwrapping himself 
from the tight folds of the blanket, he dressed. Then, 
stretching his muscles a little, to remove all stiffness or 
soreness he emerged from the canebrake. After exam- 


74 


THE DEED IN THE WATER 


ining a circle of the forest with both eye and ear to see 
that no warrior was near, he climbed a tree and looked 
over a sea of forest. 

To the north where the great camp lay he saw 
spires of smoke rising, and to the east, where a de- 
tachment guarded the boats in the river, another 
column of smoke floated off into the blue dawn. So 
he inferred that they wiere yet uncertain about their 
campaign and that their forces would remain stationary 
for a little while. But he was sure that warriors were 
ranging the forest in search of him. Red Eagle and 
Yellow Panther would not let such an insult and loss 
pass without many attempts at revenge. 

He descended and ate the last of his venison. He 
would have returned at once to his comrades, but he 
believed that many warriors were in between and he 
did not wish to draw danger either upon them or him- 
self. He began another of his great curves and it 
took him away from the refuge in the cliff, coming 
back in two or three hours to the stream that bore the 
little Indian fleet. His triumph of the night before 
increased his boldness, and he resolved to return the 
following night and annoy further the detachment by 
the river. It would serve his cause, and it would be a 
pleasure to vex the dogmatic European colonel. 

Weather was a great factor in the operation he was 
carrying on, and the coming night, fortunately for his 
purpose, promised to be dark. Spring is fickle in the 
valley of the Ohio, and toward evening clouds gath- 
ered, although there was not a sufficient closeness of 
the air to indicate rain. But the moon was feeble and 


75 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


by and by went away altogether. Then the stars fol- 
lowed, leaving only a black sky which hid Henry well, 
but which did not hide the smaller camp by the river 
from him. 

Watchers had been spread out in a wider circle, but 
he had no difficulty in approaching the fire, built on 
the bank of the river, around which sat the two chiefs, 
the renegades and the British officers. Henry saw that 
the faces of all of them expressed deep discontent, and 
he enjoyed the joke, because joke it was to him. He 
understood the depths of their chagrin. 

‘‘We’ll have to carry the cannon on the canoes, and 
maybe they’ll fall into the river,” said Alloway quer- 
ulously. “How in thunder the blowing up of those 
scows was managed I don’t understand !” 

“Several of the warriors saw a canoe floating down, 
sir, just before the explosion,” said Cartwright, “and 
it must have been no illusion, as a canoe is gone.” 

Cartwright had missed his horn of powder after the 
excitement from the explosion was over, but he sup- 
posed some Indian had used the opportunity to steal 
it, and he said nothing about his loss from fear of 
creating a breach. 

“In my opinion, sir,” said Braxton Wyatt, smoothly 
but with just a trace of irony, “it was done by Ware 
and his comrades.” 

“Impossible! Impossible!” said Alloway, testily. 
“The careless Indians left powder in the scows and 
in some manner equally careless it’s been exploded. 
The tale of the canoe that floated upstream of its own 
accord was an invention to cover up their neglect.” 


76 


THE DEED IN THE WATER 


“Do you wish us to translate for you and to state 
that opinion to the chiefs?” asked Blackstaffe. 

Alloway gave him an angry glance, but he had pru- 
dence enough to say : 

“No, of course not. After all, there may have been 
a canoe. But whatever it was it was most unfortunate. 
It delays us greatly, and it preys upon the superstitions 
of the warriors.” 

“They are very susceptible, sir, to such things,” said 
Wyatt. “They dread the unknown, and this event has 
affected them unpleasantly. But Fm quite sure it was 
done by Ware, although I don’t know how.” 

“Ware! Ware!” exclaimed Alloway, impatiently. 
“Why should a force like ours dread a single person ?” 

“Because, sir, he does things that are to be dreaded.” 

Yellow Panther, who had been sitting in silence, his 
arms folded across his great bare chest, arose and 
raised his hand. Braxton Wyatt turned toward him 
respectfully and then said to Colonel Alloway : 

“The head chief of the Miamis wishes to speak, sir,, 
and if you will pardon me for saying so, it will be wise 
for us to listen.” 

“Very well,” said Alloway. “Tell us what he says.” 

Thus spoke Yellow Panther, head chief of the 
Miamis, veteran of many wars, through the medium 
of Braxton Wyatt: 

“We and our brethren, the Shawnees, have come 
with many warriors upon a long war path. Our 
friends, the white men whom the mighty King George 
has sent across the seas to help us, have brought with 
them the great cannon which will batter down the forts 


77 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


of the Long Knives in Kaintuckee. But the signs are 
bad. The boats which were to carry the cannon on the 
river have been blown up. An enemy stands across 
our path and before we go farther we must hunt him 
down. If we cannot do it then Manitou has turned his 
face away from us.’' 

Wyatt translated and Alloway sourly gave adhesion. 
It was hard for him to think that a single little group 
of borderers could hold up a great force like theirs, 
armed with cannon too. But he was acute enough to 
see that the menace of a rupture would become a reality 
if he insisted upon having his own way. 

Henry had watched them while they talked, and 
then he turned aside to a point nearer the river's brink, 
from which he could see two pairs of their strongest 
canoes lashed together in the stream, ready for the 
reception of the cannon when they should come. How 
was he to get at them? He knew that he could not 
use a fire boat again, but these rafts, for such they were, 
must be destroyed in some manner. 

Lying deep in the thickets he considered his problem. 
One of the reasons why he excelled nearly all the scouts 
of the border was because he thought so much harder 
and longer, and now he concentrated all his faculties 
for success. 

It did not take him long to mature his plan, and 
when he had done so he moved down the stream, 
where the chance of an Indian sentinel discovering him 
was much smaller. There he waited a space, while the 
night darkened still more, the moon and stars being 
shut out entirely. A wind arose and little crumbling 

78 


THE DEED IN THE WATER 


waves pursued one another on the surface of the river, 
which was flooded and yellow from spring rains. 

He saw only one or two sentinels and they showed 
but dimly. Farther down the Englishmen, the chiefs 
and the renegades were sitting about the low fire, and 
he felt sure that the white men, at least, would sleep 
there by the coals. From his covert in the bushes he 
saw them presently spreading their blankets, and then 
they lay down with their feet to the smoldering fire. 
The chiefs soon followed them and elsewhere the 
warriors also rolled themselves in their blankets. They 
seemed to think that he would not come back, reason- 
ing like the white men that the lightning would not 
strike in the same place twice. 

So he waited long and patiently. This quality of 
patience was one in which the Caucasian was usually 
inferior to the Indian, but in the incessant struggle on 
the border it was always needed. Henry, through the 
power of his will and his original training among the 
Northwestern Indians, had acquired it in the highest 
degree. He could sit or lie an almost incredible length 
of time, so still that he would seem to blend into the 
foliage, and now as he lay in the bushes some of the 
little animals crept near and watched him. A squirrel, 
not afraid of the fire in the distance, came down the 
trunk of a tree, and hanging to the bark not five feet 
away regarded him with small red eyes. 

Henry caught a glimpse of the little gray fellow and 
turning his head ever so slightly regarded him. The 
red eyes looked back at him half bold and half afraid, 
but Henry had lived in the wild so much that the two 


79 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


felt almost akin. The squirrel saw that the gigandc 
figure on the ground did not move, and that the light 
in the eyes was friendly. He crept a little nearer, de- 
voured by curiosity. He had never seen a human 
being before, and instinct told him that he could escape 
up the tree before this great beast could rise and seiz^ 
him. He edged cautiously an inch nearer, and the blue 
eyes of the human being smiled into the little red eyes- 
of the animal. 

The two gazed at each other for a half minute or so. 
It was a look of the utmost friendliness, and then the 
squirrel went noiselessly back up the tree. It was a 
good omen, tliought Henry, but he still waited with the 
illimitable patience which is a necessity of the wild. 
He saw the fire, before which the white men and the 
chiefs lay sleeping, sink lower and lower. The night 
remained dark. The heavy drifting clouds which 
nevertheless were not ready to open for rain, moved 
overhead in solemn columns. The surface of the river 
grew dim, but now and then there was a light splash 
as a strong fish leaped up and fell back into the current. 
The Indian guards knowing well what made them, 
paid no attention to these sounds. 

The wind increased and Henry saw all the canoes, 
including those lashed together, rocking in the cur- 
rent. The blast made a whistling sound among the 
bushes and boughs and he concluded that the time for 
him to act had come. He took off all his clothing, 
made it, his weapons and ammunition in a bundle 
which he fastened on his head, and then swam across 
the river. He went some distance down the bank. 


8o 


THE DEED IN THE WATER 


deposited everything except his heavy hunting knife 
securely in the bush, and then, with the knife in his 
teeth, dropped silently into the river. 

The lashing of the wind and the perceptible rise of 
the stream from flooded tributaries farther up, made 
a considerable current, and Henry floated with it. But 
the bank on the camp side of the river was considerably 
higher than the other and first he swam across to its 
shelter. 

It was so dark now that not even the keen eye of an 
Indian could have seen his dark head on the dark sur- 
face of the stream, and he was so powerful in the water 
that he swam like a fish without noise. Once or twice 
he caught the gleam of the fire^on the bank, but he 
knew that he was not seen. 

In a few minutes he dropped in behind the lashed 
canoes, and with the heavy hunting knife cut holes in 
their bark bottoms. He was skillful and strong, but it 
took him a half-hour to finish the task, and he stopped 
at intervals to see if the sentinels had noticed anything 
unusual. Evidently they dreamed as little of this ven- 
ture as of that of the fire boat. 

He cut a small hole in every one at first, and then 
enlarged them in turn, and when he saw the water 
rising in the boats he swam rapidly away, still keeping 
in the shelter of the near shore. Then he dived, rose 
just behind a curve and walked out on the opposite 
bank, his figure gleaming white for a moment before 
he crept into the woods where his clothes and weapons 
lay. He dressed with rapidity and still lying hidden he 
heard the first Indian cry. 


8i 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


The sentinels, hearing the gurgling of the water, had 
looked over and seen the sinking canoes. Even as they 
looked, and as the alarm brought others, the canoes 
filled with water and sank fifteen feet to the bottom of 
the stream. 

A few rays of moonlight forced their way through 
the clouds just at that moment, and Henry saw the 
amazement on the faces of the warriors, and the anger 
on the faces of the white men, because Alloway and 
the others, awakened by the alarm, had hurried to the 
banks of the river. 

He laughed low to himself but with deep and 
intense satisfaction. He was enough a son of the wild 
to understand the emotions of the Indians. He knew 
that the second destruction of the boats, but in a differ- 
ent way, would fill them with awe. They could attach 
no blame to the sentinels who watched as only Indians 
could watch. 

Henry saw them lift the remaining canoes upon the 
bank for safety, and then send out scouts and runners 
in search of the dangerous foe who had visited them 
twice. None had yet come to his side of the river, but 
he knew that they would do so in time, and feeling that 
the deed was sufficient for the night, he fled away in 
the darkness. 


CHAPTER V 


THE FOREST JOKER 

I T was Henry's first thought to return to his com- 
rades, but the way was long and he must pass by 
the greater Indian camp, which surely had out 
many sentinels. So he changed his mind and resolved 
to spend the night in the woods. Shif'less Sol and the 
others would not be alarmed about his absence. They 
too had acquired the gift of infinite patience and would 
remain under cover, until he returned, content with 
their stone walls and roof, having plenty of venison, 
and fresh water running forever in their home 
itself. 

It was his idea to seek some thicket at a distance and 
lie hidden there until the next night, when he might 
achieve a fresh irruption upon the enemy. He had 
succeeded so far that he was encouraged to new at- 
tempts, and all the wilderness spirit in him came to the 
front. The civilization of the house and the city sank 
quite away. He was for the time being wholly a 
creature of the primeval forest, and while his breath 
was the very breath of the wild he felt with it a frolic 
fancy that demanded some outlet. He must sleep, but 

83 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


he would like to play a new trick upon his enemies 
before he slept. 

The spirit of the Faun, in which the old Greeks be- 
lieved, was re-created within him, and where could a 
better place for its re-creation have been found than in 
this vast green wilderness stretching from east to west 
a thousand miles, and from north to south fifteen hun- 
dred miles, a region almost untouched by the white 
man, the like of which was not to be found elsewhere 
on the globe. 

He laughed a little in his triumph, though silently. 
As he strode along a stray ray of moonlight fell upon 
him now and then, and disclosed the tall, splendid 
figure, the incarnation of magnificent youth, the forest 
superman, one upon whom Nature had lavished every 
gift for the life that he was intended to live. Although 
his step was light and soundless, his figure expressed 
strength in every movement. It was shown in the 
swing of the mighty shoulders, and the long stride 
which without effort dropped the miles behind him. 

It was destined, too, that he should have his wish 
for another achievement that night, one that would 
please the sportive fancy now so strong in him. After 
recrossing the river he saw on his left an opening of 
considerable size, and he heard grunts and groans 
coming from it. He knew that a buffalo troop was 
resting there. The foolish beasts had wandered into 
the Indian vicinity, but they would learn the proximity 
of the warriors the next day and wander away. Mean- 
while Henry needed them and would use them. Now 
and then he reverted to the religious imagery which he 

84 


THE FOREST JOKER 


had learned when he was with Red Cloud and his 
Northwestern tribe. Manitou had really sent this 
buffalo herd there for his particular benefit. It was 
the largest that he had ever seen in Kentucky. Fully 
five hundred of the great brutes rested in the opening 
and he needed numbers. 

He passed into the thick forest near them, and then 
with infinite patience lighted a fire with his flint and 
steel. Securing long sticks of dead wood he ignited 
them both until they burned with a steady and strong 
flame. Strapping his rifle upon his back and holding 
aloft a flaming torch in either hand, and uttering fierce 
and wild shouts he charged directly upon the buffaloes. 

He showed prodigious activity. All the extraor- 
dinary life that was in him leaped and sang in his 
veins. He rushed back and forth, uttering continuous 
shouts, whirling each torch until it made a perfect 
circle of fire. Doubtless to the heavy eyes of the 
buffaloes the single human being seemed twenty, 
every one enveloped in bursts of flame which they 
dreaded most of all things. 

A big bull buffalo, the leader of the herd, crouched 
at the very edge of the opening, decided first that it 
was time to move. The whirling circles of fire with 
living beings inside of them filled him with terror. 
His ton of flesh quivered and quaked. He rose with 
a mighty heave to his feet and then with a bellow of 
fright took flight from the flashing devils of fire. 

The whole herd was in a panic in an instant and 
followed the leader. They ' might have scattered in 
their fright, but they were shepherded by a human 

85 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


mind, which had allied with it a body without an 
equal in all that million and a half square miles of 
forest. As he leaped to and fro, shouting and whirling 
his torches, he drove the herd straight toward the 
camp on the river where the English officers and chiefs 
were even now asleep. 

A few animals broke off from the herd and were 
lost in the bushes, but the rest ran, packed close, a 
long column, tapering at the front like an arrow head, 
with the big bull as its point. They bellowed with 
fright and made a tremendous crashing as they raced 
over the mile that divided them from the Indian camp. 
Warriors heard the uproar, like the bursting of a 
storm in the night, and leaped to their feet. 

Now Henry fairly surpassed every effort that he had 
made hitherto. He leaped more wildly than ever, and 
redoubled his fierce shouting. He was so close upon 
the flank of the last buffaloes that they felt the torches 
singeing their hair, and, mad with fear lest they go to 
their buffalo heaven sooner than they wished they 
charged directly upon the Indian camp. 

The wild yells of the warriors joined with Henry’s 
shouts. Alloway, Cartwright and the others leaped 
up to see the red eyes, the short crooked horns and the 
huge, humped shoulders of the buffaloes bearing down 
upon them. Nothing could withstand that rush of 
mighty bodies and white men and Indians alike ran for 
their lives. 

The buffaloes came up against the river, and blocked 
by its deep flood, turned, and, running over the camp 
again, crashed away toward the west. Henry, stopping 

86 


THE FOREST JOKER 


at a convenient distance, tossed his torches into the 
river, and taking the rifle from his back sank into the 
bushes. Here he laughed once more, under his breath, 
but with the most intense delight. It was the hugest 
joke of all. 

Without any great danger to himself he had made 
the buffaloes serve him, and he could still hear them 
bellowing and crashing in their frantic flight. Al- 
though no lives had been lost, everything in the camp 
had been trodden flat. All of their cooking utensils 
had been smashed, many of their rifles had been broken, 
and, the canoes drawn upon the bank, had been 
ground under the hoofs of the buffaloes. A hurricane 
could not have made a wreck more complete. 

Henry saw Alloway emerge from the forest and 
come back to the scene of ruin. He had taken off his 
coat before he lay down, but only fragments of it 
remained now. He was red with anger and he swore 
violently. Yellow Panther and Red Eagle had lost 
their blankets, but, whatever they felt, they kept it to 
themselves. They looked upon the trodden camp, but 
they did not lose their dignity. 

“What is this? What is this? What is this?” 
stuttered Alloway in his wrath. 

“We seem, sir, to have been run over by a herd of 
buffaloes,” said Wyatt, smoothly. 

“And does this sort of thing happen often in these 
woods ?” 

“I can't say that Eve heard of such a case before, 
but even if it's a single instance we're the victims of 
it/' 


87 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


Alloway glared at Wyatt, but he knew that he could 
not afford to quarrel with the young renegade, who 
had great influence with the tribes. He picked up the 
fragments of his red coat and looked at them rue- 
fully. 

“I didn't know that the herds were ever so large in 
this forest country," he said to Blackstaffe. 

‘‘It’s seldom so," said the older renegade. 

‘Ts it their habit to rise up at midnight and gallop 
over men’s camps?" 

‘Tt is not." 

‘‘Then how do you account for such behavior ?" 

Blackstaffe shrugged his shoulders and spoke a few 
words in their own tongue to the chiefs. Then he 
turned back to Colonel Alloway. 

“The chiefs tell me," he said, “that the buffaloes 
were driven by a demon, an immense figure, preceded 
by whirling circles of fire. The evil spirit, they say, 
is upon them." 

“And do you believe such nonsense?" 

“A continuous life in the deep woods gives one new 
beliefs. I thought I caught a glimpse of such a figure, 
but when I tried for a second look it was gone. But 
whether right or wrong you can see what has hap- 
pened. Our camp has been destroyed and with it most 
of the canoes. We have lost much, and the Indians are 
greatly alarmed. It is superstition, not fear, that has 
affected them." 

“In my opinion," said Braxton Wyatt, “it was a 
trick of Henry Ware’s. He drove those buffaloes 
down upon us." 


88 


THE FOREST JOKER 


“Very likely/^ said BlackstaflFe, “but you can’t per- 
suade the Indians so.” 

“Nor me either,” said Alloway gruffly. “You can’t 
tell me that a backwoods youth can do so much.” 

“But,” said Blackstaffe, “our scows were blown up, 
our lashed canoes were sunk, and now the buffaloes 
have been driven over us. It couldn’t be chance. I 
think with Wyatt that it was Ware, but the chiefs are 
not willing to stay here longer. They demand that 
we return to the great camp in the morning, and that 
we abandon the attempt to take the cannon up the 
river.” 

“Which means an infinite amount of work with the 
ax,” growled Alloway. “Well, let it be so, if it must, 
but I will not move tonight for anything. At least 
grass and trees are left, and I can sleep on one and 
under the other.” 

The chiefs, Yellow Panther and Red Eagle, thought 
they ought to march at once, but they yielded to Allo- 
way who was master of the great guns with which they 
hoped to smash the palisades around the settlements. 
Complete cooperation between white man and red man 
was necessary for the success of the expedition, and 
sometimes it was necessary for one to placate the 
other. 

They chose places anew upon ground that looked 
like a lost field of battle. The buffaloes had practically 
trampled the camp into the earth. The Indians had 
lost most of their blankets and in taking the canoes 
from the river and putting them upon the bank to 
escape one form of destruction they had merely met 

89 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


another. But they did the best they could, seeking the 
most comfortable places for sleep, and resolved to 
secure rest for the remainder of the night. 

But Red Eagle and Yellow Panther, great chiefs 
though they were, were troubled by bad dreams which 
came straight from Ha-nis-ja-o-no-geh, the dwelling 
place of the Evil Minded. An enemy whom they could 
not see or hear, but whose presence they felt, was near. 
He had brought misfortune upon them and he would 
bring more. They awoke from their dreams and sat 
up. The white men were sleeping heavily, but then 
white men were often foolish in the forest. 

Everything that stirred in the wilderness had a 
voice for the Indian. North wind or south wind, east 
wind or west wind all said something to him. The 
flowing of the river, and the sounds made by animab 
in the darkness had their meaning. Yellow Panther 
and Red Eagle were great chiefs, mighty on the war 
path, filled with the lore of their tribes, and they knew 
that Manitou expressed himself in many ways. They 
spoke together and when they compared their bad 
dreams straight from Ha-nis-ja-o-no-geh they felt 
apprehension. The wind was blowing from the north- 
west, and its voice was a threat. Then came the weird 
cry of an owl from a point north of them, and they 
did not know whether it was a real owl or the same 
evil spirit that had sent the bad dreams. 

The two chiefs, wary and brave, were troubled. 
They could fight the seen, but the unseen was a foe 
whom no warrior knew how to meet. Then they heard 
the owl again, but from another point, farther to the 


90 


THE FOREST JOKER 


west, and after a while the cry came from a point 
almost due west. 

They sent the boldest and most skillful warrior to 
scout the forest in that direction and they waited long 
for his return, but he never came back. When the 
second hour after his departure had been completed 
the chiefs awakened all the others and announced that 
they would start at once for the great camp. 

Alloway growled and cursed under his breath. 

“What is it?’' he said to Braxton Wyatt, who had 
been talking with Red Eagle and Yellow Panther. 
“Can’t we finish in peace what’s left of the night?” 

“We must yield to the chiefs, sir,” said Wyatt. “If 
we don’t there will be trouble, and the whole expedition 
will fail before it’s fairly started. While we were 
asleep they heard an owl hoot from several different 
points of the compass, and they think it an omen of 
evil. They may be right, because a scout, a man of 
uncommon skill, whom they sent out two hours ago 
with instructions to return in an hour or less, has not 
come back. If you consider the misfortunes that have 
befallen us tonight, you can’t blame ’em.” 

The hoot of the owl, much nearer, came suddenly 
through the forest. To the chiefs and to the white 
men as well it had a long menacing note. It was an 
omen of ill and it came from the Place of Evil Dreams. 
Yellow Panther and Red Eagle, great chiefs, victors 
in many a forest foray, shuddered. Fear struck like 
daggers at their hearts. 

“Gray Beaver, our scout, will never come back,” said 
Yellow Panther, and Red Eagle nodded. 


91 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


The surcharged air afYected Alloway and the other 
white men also. The obvious fears of the chiefs and 
the black wilderness about him created an atmosphere 
that the colonel could not resist. He glanced at the 
dark files of the trees and listened to the low moaning 
of the river as it flowed past. Then from a point in the 
south came that warning, plangent cry of the evil bird. 
Perspiration stood out on the brows of the chiefs and 
Alloway himself was shaken. Superstition and fears 
bred of the wilderness and its darkness entered into his 
own soul. The place suddenly became hateful to him. 

‘Xet us go,'’ he said. ‘Terhaps it is better that we 
rejoin the main force.” 

Braxton Wyatt had his own opinion, but he was as 
willing as the others to depart. He felt that on this 
expedition he would be safer with the warriors all 
about him. He had saved his own rifle from the rush ^ 
of the herd, and putting it on his shoulder he fell in 
behind the chiefs. 

The whole party started, but they found that al- 
though they had left an evil place they had also begun 
an evil march. The owl, which the Indians were quite 
sure contained the soul of some great dead warrior, 
followed and continually menaced them. Its cry was 
heard from one side and then from the other. Colonel 
Alloway, a brave man, though choleric and cruel, was 
exasperated beyond endurance. He raged and swore 
as they marched through the dark thickets, the Indians 
moving lightly and surely, while he often stumbled. 
He insisted at last that they stop and take action. 

^‘Do you think this is a real owl following us ?” he 


92 


THE FOREST JOKER 


said to Wyatt, whom he invariably used as an inter- 
preter. 

think it is Ware, of whom I told you.’’ 

‘‘You’re as bad in your way as the Indians are in 
theirs. Why, the fellow would be superhuman !” 

“That would not keep it from being true.” 

Alio way knew from Wyatt’s tone that he meant what 
he said. 

“We must hunt down this forest rover!” he ex- 
claimed. “I can see that he is striking a heavy blow 
at the Indians through their superstitions.” 

“No doubt of that, sir.” 

“Tell the chiefs for me that we must send out a half 
dozen trailers while the rest of us remain here. I’m 
not as used as you are to midnight marches in the 
forest, and every bone in me aches.” 

Wyatt translated and Yellow Panther and Red 
Eagle consented. A half-dozen of the best trailers 
slipped away in different directions in the forest, and 
the rest sat down in a group. They' waited a long 
time and heard nothing. The owl did not cry, nor did 
any human shout come from the haunted depths of the 
wilderness. 

“At least they’ve driven him away,” said Alloway 
to Cartwright. 

“I think so, sir.” 

Out of the forest, low at first, but swelling on a long 
triumphant note, came the solemn voice of the owl. 
Alloway, despite himself, shuddered. The sinister cry 
expressed victory. His own mind, like those of the 
Indians, had become attuned to the superstitions and 


93 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


fears bred of ignorance and the dark. His heart 
paused, and when it began its work again the beat was 
heavy. 

A darker blot appeared on the darkness and two 
warriors, bearing a third, came through the bushes. 
The man whom they bore was a dark-browed, cruel 
savage who had carried the scalp of a white woman at 
his belt. But he would hunt or scalp no more. He had 
been cloven from brow to chin with the blow of a toma- 
hawk wielded by an arm mighty like that of Hercules. 
Colonel Alloway looked upon the slain savage and 
shuddered again. 

‘"Ask them how it happened,’’ he said to Wyatt. 

The young renegade, after speaking with the Indians, 
replied : 

“Black Fox, the dead warrior, turned aside to look 
into a willow thicket. The others heard the beginning 
of a cry, that is one that was checked suddenly, and the 
sound of a blow. Then they found Black Fox as you 
see him there.” 

“And the one who struck him down ?” 

“There was no trace of him, but I, at least, have no 
doubt about him. Colonel Alloway, sir, I tell you he 
is the greatest forester that ever lived. He has all the 
different kinds of strength of the red man and the 
white man united, and something more, a power which 
I once heard a learned man say must have belonged to 
people when they had no weapons but clubs, and beasts 
far bigger than any of our time roamed the woods. It 
must have been a sort of feeling or sense that we can’t 
understand, like the nose of a hound, and this Ware 
has it.” 


94 


THE FOREST JOKER 


‘'Pshaw! Pshaw! Pshaw!” exclaimed Alloway vio- 
lently. But Wyatt saw that his violence of speech was 
assumed to hide his own growing belief. The two 
chiefs beckoned to him, and he talked with them briefly. 
Then he turned to Alloway. 

“Red Eagle and Yellow Panther ask me to say to 
you, sir, that they’ll send no more warriors into the 
forest. The Evil Spirit is there and while they’re ready 
to fight men they will not fight devils.” 

“I don’t blame ’em,” said Alloway reluctantly. 
“We’ve been outwitted and made fools of, and the best 
thing we can do is to get back to the great camp as 
soon as we can. Tell the chiefs we’re ready to march.” 

But the way was long and the night was still black. 
The cry of the owl came several times, first on the right 
and then on the left. Every time he heard it the heart 
of the colonel beat with anger, tinged with awe. It 
was a strange world into which he had come, and while 
he would not have acknowledged it to another, he knew 
that he was afraid. And afraid of what? Of a single 
figure, lurking somewhere in the dusk, that seemed 
able to strike at any moment wherever and whenever 
it wished. 

The band, with its chiefs, its white men and its 
renegades marched on, the two English officers panting 
from such unusual exertion, and tripping often as they 
grew weaker. It hurt Alloway to ask them to stop and 
let him rest, and he put off the evil moment as long as 
he could, but at last, as his breath became shorter and 
shorter, he was compelled to do so. 

The chiefs acquiesced silently and the whole band 


95 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAH. 


stopped. Alloway sat down on one of those fallen logs 
to be found everywhere in the primeval forest, and his 
breath came in long painful sobs. He was just a little 
too stout for wilderness work, that is for the marching 
part of it, and he was hurt cruelly in both body and 
spirit. As his general weakness grew, the cry of the 
owl directly in their path and not far away w'as like 
fire touched to an open wound. 

‘'Can’t some of the warriors go forward, ambush and 
shoot that fiend?” he exclaimed in desperation to 
Blackstaffe. 

"You saw what happened when we tried it an hour 
ago,” replied the renegade. "In the darkness one man 
has an opportunity over many. He knows that all are 
his enemies, and he can shoot the moment he hears a 
sound or sees a rustle in the bush. Besides, sir, we are 
confronted, as Wyatt has told you, by the one foe who 
is the most dangerous in all the world to us. There is 
something about him that passes almost beyond belief. 
I’m not a coward, as these Indians will tell you, but 
nothing could induce me to go into the forest in search 
of him.” 

Alloway made no reply, but he took off a cocked hat 
that he wore even in the wilderness, and began to fan 
his heated face. A rifle cracked suddenly, and the hat 
flew from his hand into the air. The Indians uttered 
a long wailing cry like the Seneca "Oonah,” but did 
not move from their places or show any sign that they 
wished to pursue. 

The colonel’s empty hand remained poised in the 
air, and he gazed with mingled anger and wonder at 

q6 


THE FOREST JOKER 


his hat, lying upon the ground, and perforated neatly 
by a bullet. Wyatt, Blackstaffe and Cartwright looked 
at him but said nothing. Even Wyatt felt a thrill of 
awe. 

‘‘That, sir, was a warning,^' he said at last. “He 
could have shot you as easily.’' 

“But why don’t the warriors pursue ? He could not 
have been much more than a hundred yards away !” 

“They’re afraid, sir, and I don’t blame ’em.” 

Wyatt himself showed apprehension. He knew the 
bitter hatred the borderers felt toward all renegades. 
The name of Girty was already one of loathing. 
Blackstaffe was another who could expect little mercy, 
if he ever fell into their hands, and Wyatt himself 
knew that he had fully earned the Kentucky bullet. He 
did not feel the superstition of the warrior, but he 
regarded the gloomy depths of the forest with just as 
much terror. There was no reason why the silent 
marksman who hung upon them should not pick him 
out for a target. 

They came to a creek running three feet deep, but 
they waded it and then stood for a minute or two on 
the bank, wringing the water out of their clothing. 
Colonel Alloway still cursed under his breath, and be- 
moaned the fate that had befallen him. It seemed a 
cruel jest that he, who had served in Flanders and 
Germany, in open country that had been civilized many 
centuries, should be sent from Detroit to march as an 
ally of savages in that enormous and unknown wilder- 
ness. 

The cry of the owl came from a point straight ahead. 


97 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAEL 


and not more than four hundred yards away. Not a 
savage moved. But Alloway’s whole frame shook with 
furious anger. It was preposterous that they should be 
harried so on their march by a single enemy. Once 
more he turned to Wyatt and said : 

“Can’t we spread out in some manner and catch this 
impudent fellow ? Are thirty men to be driven all night 
through the woods by a single border rover?” 

“I can put your question to the chiefs,” Wyatt re- 
plied, “but I doubt whether anything will come of it.” 

He talked a little with Yellow Panther and Red 
Eagle and found that they were willing to try again. 
They were pursued by a devil, but, mysterious as he 
was, they would send forth the warriors, and perhaps 
they might trap him. They gave the signal and a dozen 
savages plunged at once into the bush, spreading out 
like a fan, and advancing toward the point from which 
the owl had sent his haunting cry. 

The others waited a long time by the creek, and 
Alloway’s rage still burned. It was past endurance 
that a gentleman and an officer should be hunted 
through the woods in such a manner, insulted even by a 
bullet through his fine cocked hat, and hope being the 
father of belief, he was sure that the warriors would 
finish him this time. 

He heard a sudden sharp report in the woods behind 
them, on the other side of the creek that they had 
crossed, and a bullet buried itself in the tree against 
which he was leaning, not very far from his face. He 
uttered a deep oath, but Yellow Panther and Red Eagle 
sr.gnaled to their forces to take the trail once more. 

98 


THE FOREST JOKER 


The one in whom the Evil Spirit dwelled and who had 
come to mock them could not be caught. They would 
waste no more time, but would march as fast as they 
could to the main camp. They sent out cries that called 
in the warriors and then they set off at a great pace. 

But all through the remainder of the night the Evil 
Spirit hung upon them, sometimes beside them, and 
sometimes behind them, and the terror of the warriors 
grew. Upon more than one face the war paint was 
damp with perspiration, and Colonel Alloway, his red 
face dripping, was forced to keep up with them, stride 
for stride. 

Their terror did not diminish at all until the daylight 
came. Red Eagle and Yellow Panther, great chiefs, 
were glad to see the glow over the eastern forest that 
told of the rising sun. Even then they did not stop, 
but kept on at high speed, until the morning was flooded 
with light, when*they stopped for fresh breath. 

The English officers threw themselves upon the 
ground and gasped. They were not ashamed to show 
now to the Indians that they were weary almost to 
death. 

‘T think I left at least twenty pounds in that cursed 
forest,” said Alloway. 

‘T^m not anxious for another such march,” said Cart- 
wright with sympathy. *‘But, sir, you can see a big 
smoke rising not more than a mile ahead. That must 
be the main camp.” 

‘Tt is,” said Braxton Wyatt, ‘'and there are some of 
the scouts coming to meet us.” 

Far behind them rose the long hoot of the owl, but 


99 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


Wyatt knew that they would hear it no more that day. 
He regarded the English officers grimly. They had 
patronized him and Blackstaffe, and now they made the 
poorest showing of all. In the woods they were lost. 

Alloway and Cartwright rose after a long rest and 
limped into the camp. The colonel reflected that he had 
lost prestige but there were the cannon. The warriors 
could not afford to march against Kentucky without 
them, and only he and his men knew how to use them. 
In a huge camp, with a brilliant sun driving away many 
of the fancies that night and the forest brought, his 
full sense of importance returned. He began to talk 
now of pushing forward at once with the guns, in order 
that they might strike before the settlers were aware. 


CHAPTER VI 


THE KING WOLF 

W HEN the two chiefs, Alloway and the 
smaller force, were driven into the great 
camp, Henry turned aside into the forest 
and felt that he had done well. All the fanciful spirit 
of the younger world created by the Greeks had been 
alive in him that night. He had been a young Her- 
cules at play and he had enjoyed his grim jokes. He 
was not only a young Hercules, he was a primeval son 
of the forest to whom the wilderness was a book in 
which he read. 

He went back a little on their path, and he marked 
where the European leader had fallen twice through 
sheer weariness or because he could not see well enough 
in the dusk to evade trailing vines. A red thread or 
two on a bush showed that he had torn his uniform in 
falling, and the young woods rover laughed. He could 
not recall another such gratifying night, one in which 
he had served his own people and also had annoyed 
the enemy beyond endurance. 

He went deep into the forest, hiding his trail as usual, 
and lay down in a covert to rest, while he ate some of 

lOI 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


the venison that he had left. Here he saw again his 
friends of the little trails, with which he was so 
• familiar. The shy rabbits were creeping through the 
bushes and instinctively they seemed to have no fear of 
him. Two little birds not ten feet over his head were 
singing in intense rivalry. Their tiny throats swelled 
out as they poured forth a brilliant volume of song, and 
Henry, lying perfectly still, looked up at them and 
admired them. It would have required keen eyes like 
his to have picked them out, each of whom a green leaf 
would have covered, but he saw them and recognized 
them as friends of his. He did not know them person- 
ally, but since all their tribe were his comrades they 
must be so too. 

Although he was one of mighty prowess with the 
rifle, and a taker of game, Henry always felt his kin- 
ship with the little people of the forest. No one of 
them ever fell wantonly at his hands. The gay birds 
in their red or blue plumage and all the soberer garbs 
between, were safe from him. It seemed that they too 
at times recognized -him as a friend since he would hear 
the flutter of tiny wings over his head or by his ear, 
and see them pass in a flash of flame, or of blue or of 
brown. 

Those old tales of Paul floated once more through 
his mind. He had no doubt that Paul w^as right. The 
Biblical six thousand years might be six million years 
as men thought of them now. And he knew himself, 
from his own eye, that huge monsters, larger than any 
that lived now, did roam the earth once. He had seen 
their bones in hundreds at the Big Bone Lick, where 


102 


THE KING WOLF 


they had come to get the salty water scores of thousi 
of years ago. It seemed to him then that in those day. 
men and the little animals and the little birds must have 
been allies against the monsters. Here, in the woods, 
so far from civilization, this friendship must be con- 
tinued. The light wind which so often sang to him 
through the leaves sprang up and joined its note to that 
of the birds. The fierce, wild spirit that had made him 
haunt the flying trail the night before, and that had 
sent the tomahawk so deep, departed. He felt singu- 
larly friendly to all created beings. 

Lying on his back and looking upward mto the green 
roof, Henry listened to the fores, t concert. The two 
over his head were still singing with utmost vigor, but 
others had joined. From all the trees and bushes about 
him came a volume of song, and the shadow of no 
swooping hawk or eagle fell across the sky to disturb 
them. 

He had a little bread in his pouch, and he threw some 
crumbs on the grass a few feet away. The hand and 
arm that had cast them sank by his side, remained ab- 
solutely still and he waited. The wonder that he was 
wishing so intensely came to pass. A bird, brown and 
tiny, alighted on the grass and pecked one of the 
crumbs. Beyond a doubt, this was a bold bird, a leader 
among his kind, an explorer and discoverer. He had 
never seen a crumb before, but he picked up one in his 
tiny bill and found it good. Then he announced the 
news to all the world that could hear his voice, and 
there was much fluttering of small wings in the air. 

More birds, red, green, yellow and brown, settled 


103 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


a the grass and began to pick the crumbs eagerly, 
it was new food, but they found it good. Nor did they 
pay any attention to the great figure in buckskin dyed 
green lying so near and so still. The instinct given to 
them in place of reason, which warned them of the 
presence of an enemy, gave them no such warning 
now, because there was none against which they could 
be warned.* 

Henry always believed that the birds felt his kinship 
that morning, or per.haps it was the crumbs that drew 
them to a friend and gave them hearts without fear. 
One of them, perhaps the original bold explorer, seek- 
ing vainly for another crumb, hopped upon his bare 
hand as it lay in the grass, but feeling its warmth flew 
away a foot, hung hovering a moment or two, then 
came back and took a peck. 

It was not sufficient to hurt Henry's toughened hand, 
and exerting the great strength of his will over his body 
he continued to lie perfectly motionless. The bird, sat- 
isfied that this food was beyond his powers, stood mo- 
tionless for a few moments, then flapped his wings two 
or three times to indicate that he was a prince and an 
ornament of the forest, and began to pour forth the 
fullest and deepest song that Henry had yet heard. 

It gave him a curious thrill as the bird, perched on 
his hand, and extended to his utmost, sang his song. 
The other birds having finished all the crumbs stood 
chirping and twittering in the grass. Then, as if by a 
given signal, all of them, including the one on Henry’s 
hand, united in a single volume of song and flew up 
into the crevices of the green roof. He felt that a sere- 


104 


THE KING WOLF 


nade had been given to him, one that few human kings 
ever enjoyed. The little flying people of the forest had 
united to do him honor, and he was pleased, hugely 
pleased. 

They were hidden from him now in the green leaves, 
but where the sky was clear he saw a sudden dark 
shadow against the blue. He sprang up in an instant 
and raised his rifle. But it was too late for the eagle 
to stop. The heavy figure with the tearing beak and 
claws swooped downward, and there was silence and 
terror among the green leaves. But before the eagle 
could clutch or rend, Henry’s rifle spoke with unerring 
aim, and the body fell to the ground dead. 

He was sorry. He did not like his morning party 
to be broken up in such a manner, and for his guests 
to be disturbed and frightened. Nor was it wise to fire 
his rifle in that neighborhood. But he had acted on 
an impulse that he did not regret. He looked at the 
beak and claws of the dead eagle and he was glad that 
he had shot him. The fierce bird had broken up his 
forest idyl, and knowing that he could stay no longer 
he set off at a great pace, again curving about in a 
course that led him somewhat toward the house in the 
cliff. 

He crossed several trails and he became rather anx- 
ious. Doubtless they were made by hunters, because 
the Indians while they remained at the great camp 
would eat prodigiously, and bands would be con- 
tinually searching the forest for buffalo and deer. It 
was from these that the chief danger came. He 
suspected also that their proximity had compelled 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


Shi f ’less Sol and the others to keep close within their 
little shelter. He doubted whether he could reach 
them that day. 

The need of rest made itself felt at last, and, hiding 
his trail, he crept into another small but very dense 
thicket. He felt that he was within a lair and his kin- 
ship with bird and beast was renewed. No wolf or 
bear could lie snugger in its den than he. * 

He put his rifle by his side, where he could reach it 
in a second, and was soon asleep. A prowling bear 
came into the far edge of the thicket, sniffed the man- 
smell and went away, not greatly alarmed, but feeling 
that it was better, in case of doubt, to avoid the cause 
of the doubt. Two Indians, carrying the cloven body 
of a deer, passed within three hundred yards of the 
sleeping youth, but they saw no trail and went on to the 
camp with the spoils of the hunt. 

Henry slept lightly, but a long time. The forest 
quality was still strong within him. Although his sleep 
had all its restoring power, the lightest noise in the 
undergrowth near him would have awakened him. But 
he slept on through the morning, and into the after- 
noon. 

A second party of savage hunters passed, five men 
carrying wild turkeys, and they too did not d^eam that 
the enemy whom they dreaded so much lay near. They 
had left the camp only that morning, and, the warriors 
arriving from the river, had told before they left how 
they had been pursued all through the night by one 
upon whom the Evil Spirit had descended. Even in 
the day they would have avoided this being, and the 

io6 


THE KING WOLF 


old medicine men who were in the camp were making 
charms to drive him away. 

It was the most brilliant part of the afternoon now. 
Nevertheless they looked with a tinge of superstitious 
terror at the forests. The highly imaginative mind of 
the Indian, clothes nearly all things with personality, 
and for them an evil wind was blowing. The events 
of the preceding night had been colored and enlarged 
by those who told them. One or two had seen the form, 
gigantic and flaming-eyed, that had hung upon their 
trail, and these warriors, fearing that they too might 
see it, and in the open day, hung close as they bore their 
load of turkeys back to the camp. 

Henry did not awake until the west was growing 
dim, and then after the fashion of the borderers he 
awoke all at once, that is, every nerve and faculty was 
alive at the same time. Nothing had invaded his haunt 
in the brushwood. His keen eyes showed him at once 
that no bush had been displaced, and, with his rifle 
ready, he walked out into the opening. 

He must get back into the little fortress that night. 
He had been gone so long that Shif’less Sol and the 
others, although having the utmost confidence in his 
powers, would begin to worry about him. Yet he knew 
that it was unwise to approach the place until night 
came. Delay was all the more necessary, because while 
he saw on the northern horizon the smoke from the 
great camp, he saw also a smaller smoke rising from 
another camp nearer their fortress. It was so near, in 
truth, that the four must find it necessary to hide close 
within the walls. 


107 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


The second smoke aroused Henry’s apprehension. 
Perhaps a portion of the camp had been moved forward 
merely to be nearer water or for some kindred reason, 
but that did not keep it from being nearer the stone 
fortress, nor from impeding his entrance into it. Yet 
he believed that he could slip past. His skill had tri- 
umphed over greater tests. 

After dark he began his journey, buoyant and strong 
from his long sleep, and continued his wide circuit in- 
tending to approach his destination from the west. 
Distance did not amount to much to the borderer, and 
his long, easy gait carried him on, mile after mile. 

It was another night, brilliant with moon and stars, 
and Henry was able to see the larger trail of smoke still 
traced on the northern horizon. His sense of direction 
was perfect, but he looked up now and then at the 
smoky bar, always keeping it on his right, and three or 
four hours after sunset he began to curve in towards 
his friends. The country into which he had come was 
similar in character to that which he had left, heavy 
forest, rolling hills and many creeks and brooks. He 
had never been in that immediate region before, and 
he judged by the amount of game springing up before 
him that it had not been visited by anybody in a long 
time. It was always a cause of wonder to him that a 
region as large as Kentucky, four fifths the size of 
all England, should be totally without Indian in- 
habitants. 

The fact that Indians from the North and Indians 
from the South were said to fight there when on their 
hunting expeditions, and that hence they preferred to 


io8 


THE KING WOLF 


leave it as a barrier or neutral ground, did not wholly 
account for the fact to him. Farther north and farther 
south the Indians occupied all the country and fought 
with one another, but in this beautiful and fertile land 
there was no village, and not even a stray lodge. 

He had often asked himself the .reason, and while he 
was asking it he came to a long low mound, covered 
with trees of smaller growth than those in the surround- 
ing forest. At first he took it for a hill just like the 
others, but its shape did not seem natural, and, despite 
the importance of time he looked again, and once more. 
Then he walked a little way up the mound and his moc- 
casined foot struck lightly against something hard. He 
stooped, and catching hold of the impediment pulled 
from the earth a broken piece of pottery. 

It seemed old, very old, and wishing to rest a little, 
Henry sat down and gazed at it. The Indians of the 
present day could not possibly have made it, and it was 
impossible also that any white settler or hunter could 
have left it there. He dropped the fragment and rising, 
looked farther, finding two more pieces buried almost 
to the edge, but which his strong hands pulled out. 
They seemed to him of the same general workmanship 
as the others, and he surmised that the long mound upon 
which he was standing had been thrown up by the hand 
of man. 

What was inside the mound ? Perhaps the skeletons 
of men dead a thousand years or more, men more civil- 
ized than the Indians, but gone forever, and leaving no 
trace, save some broken pieces of pottery. Possibly the 
Indians themselves had destroyed these people, and they 


709 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


did not come here to live because they feared the ghosts 
of the slain. But it v^as no question that he could solve. 
He would talk about it later with Paul and meanwhile 
he must find some way to reach the others. 

He threw down the pottery and left the hill, but, as 
he swung swiftly onward, the hill and its contents did 
not disappear from his mind. He had a strange sense 
of mystery. The new land about him might be an old, 
old land. He had never thought of it, except as forest 
and canebrake, in which the Indians had always 
roamed, but evidently it was not so. It was strange 
that races could disappear completely. 

But as he raced on, the feeling for these things fell 
from him. He was not so much for the past as Paul 
was. He was essentially of the present, and, dealing 
with wild men in a wild country, he was again a wild 
man himself. Among the Indians at the great camp or 
about it there was not one in such close kinship with 
the forest as he. Despite danger and his anxiety to 
reach his comrades, he felt all its beauty and majesty, 
in truth fairly reveled in it. 

He noticed the different trees, the oaks, the elms, the 
maples, the walnuts, the hickories, the sycamores, the 
willows at the edges of the stream, the dogwoods, and 
all the other kinds which made up the immeasurable 
forest. They were in the early but full foliage of 
spring, and the light wind brought odors that were like 
a perfumed breath. 

It was past midnight, when he stopped to enjoy again 
the fine flavor of his kingdom. Then he suddenly lay 
flat among the dead leaves of the year before, and 


no 


THE KING WOLF 


thrust forward the barrel of his rifle. He had heard 
a footfall, the footfall of a moccasin, not much heav- 
ier than the fall of a leaf, and every nerve and 
faculty within him was concentrated to meet the new 
danger. 

The sound had come from his right, and raising his 
head just a little he looked, but saw nothing, that is 
nothing new in the waving forest. Yet Henry was 
sure that a man was there. His ear would not deceive 
him. Doubtless it was a stray hunter or scout from 
the bands, and, while he did not fear him, he was an- 
noyed by the delay. It might keep him from reaching 
his comrades that night. 

He waited a long time, using all the patience that he 
had learned, and he began to believe that his ear after 
all might have deceived him. Perhaps it had been mere- 
ly a rabbit in the undergrowth, but while he was 
debating with himself he heard a faint stir in the bush, 
and he knew that it was made by a man seeking a new 
position. 

Then his intuition, the power that came from an 
extreme development of the five senses, reinforced by 
will, gave him an idea. Still lying on his back he 
uttered the lonesome howl of the wolf, but very low. 
He waited a moment or two, eager to know if his in- 
tuition had told him truly, and back came the wolf’s low 
but lone cry. He gave the second call and the cry of 
the wolf came in like answer. 

Then he stood up with rifle at trail and walked boldly 
forward. A tall figure, rifle also at trail, emerged from 
the bush and advanced to meet him. Two hands met 

III 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


in the strong clasp of those who had shared a thou- 
sand dangers and who had never failed each other. 

‘T thought when I made the call that it would be 
you, Sol,” said Henry. 

“An" I knowed it must be you, Henry,” said the 
shiftless one, showing his double row of shining white 
teeth, ’cause you’re the only one in the woods who 
kin understan’ our signals.” 

‘‘And that means that Paul, Long Jim and Tom are 
safe in the cave.” 

“When I left two nights ago, hevin’ gone back thar 
after we separated, they wuz safe, but whether they are 
now I can’t tell. Decidin’ that they wuz foulin’ the 
water too much, part o’ the band has moved up to a 
place mighty close to our own snug house. They don’t 
know yet that the hole in the wall is thar, but ef they 
stay long they’re boun’ to run acrost it. That’s why 
I’ve come out lookin’ fur you, an’ mighty glad I am 
that I’ve found you. I’d a notion you’d take this cir- 
cuit, after doin’ all the deviltry you’ve done.” 

The shiftless one’s mouth parted in a wide grin of 
admiration. The two rows of white teeth shone 
brightly. 

“Henry,” he said, “you’re shorely the wild cata- 
mount o’ the mountains.” 

“Why?” 

“Well, I’m somethin’ o’ a scout an’ trailer, ez you 
know, an’ that ain’t no boastin’. I’ve been hangin’ 
’roun’ the Injun camp, an’ they’re terrible stirred up. 
An evil sperrit has been doin’ ’em a power o’ harm 
an’ I know that evil sperrit is you. Ef it wuzn’t fur 


1 12 


THE KING WOLF 


them cannon on which they build such big hopes 
the chiefs would take all their warriors and go home. 
But the white men are urgin’ ’em on. Henry, 
you’re shorely the king o’ these woods. How’d you 
stir ’em up so ?” 

Henry modestly told him all that he had done, and 
the shiftless one chuckled again and again, as proud of 
his comrade’s deeds as if he had done them himself. 

‘‘But the Indians will march against Kentucky ?” said 
Henry. “You don’t doubt that, do you?” 

“Yes, they’ll go. Hevin’ brought the cannon so fur 
they won’t turn back, but mebbe we kin hold ’em a while 
longer. There are tricks an’ tricks, an’ we kin work 
some o’ ’em.” 

“And it’s our object to stop those cannon. Unless 
they have ’em w^e can beat the Indians off as we did 
last year, even if they are led by the English.” 

“So we kin, Henry, an’ we’ll git them guns yet. 
Scoutin’ ’roun’ thar camp I learned enough to know 
that you’ve broke up thar plan o’ tryin’ to carry ’em 
part o’ the way by the river. You must hev done 
mighty slick work thar, Henry. The warriors are plum’ 
shore now that river is ha’nted. It’s all the way through 
the woods now fur them cannon, an’ the English will 
hev to use the axes most o’ the time.” 

“Then we’ll be going back as fast as we can. I want 
to tell you again, Sol, that your face was mighty wel- 
come.” 

“I ain’t no beauty,” grinned the shiftless one, “but 
them that’s bringin’ help do be welcome when they 
come. That’s the reason you looked so pow’ful well 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


to me, Henry, ’cause I wuz gettin’ mighty lonesome, 
prowlin’ ’roun’ in these woods all by myself, an’ no 
comp’ny to call, ’cept them that would roast me alive 
when they’d j’in me.” 

“The cliff is straight north, isn’t it ?” 

“Jest about. But thar’s an Injun band in the way. 
They’re jerkin’ a lot o’ venison fur the main camp, but 
bein’ ez you’ve stirred ’em up so they’re keepin’ a 
mighty good watch too. You know we don’t want no 
fights, we jest want to travel on ez peaceful ez runnin’ 
water.” 

“That’s so, Sol, but it means a much farther curve 
to the west.” 

“Then we’ve got to take it. It ain’t hard for you an’ 
me. We’ve got steel wire for muscles in our legs, and 
the night is clear, cool an’ life-givin’. Paul hez talked 
’bout parks in the Old World, but we’ve got here a big- 
ger an’ finer park than any in Europe or Asyer, or fur 
that matter than Afriker or that new continent, Aus- 
tralyer. An’ thar ain’t any other park that hez got so 
many trees in it ez ourn, or ez much big game all fur 
the takin’. Now lead on, Henry, an’ we’ll go to our 
new home.” 

“No, you lead, Sol. I’ve been on a big strain, an’ 
I’d like to follow for a while.” 

“O’ course you would, you poor little peaked thing. 
I ought to hev thought o’ that when I spoke. Never out 
in the woods afore by hisself an’ nigh scared to death 
by the trees an’ the dark. But jest you come on. I’ll 
lead you an’ I won’t let no squirrel or rabbit hurt you 
neither.” 


THE KING WOLF 


Henry laughed. The humor and unction of the 
shiftless one always amused him. 

“Go ahead, Sol,’’ he said, “and I’ll promise to keep 
close behind you, where nothing will harm me.” 

Thus they set off, Sol in front and Henry five feet 
away, treading in his footsteps. 

“There wuz a time when I’d hev been afraid o’ the 
dark,” said Shif’less Sol, whose conversational powers 
were great. “You’ve been to the Big Bone Lick, an’ 
so hev I, an’ we’ve seen the bones o’ the monsters that 
roamed the earth afore the flood, a long time afore. I 
wouldn’t hev believed that such critters ever tramped 
around our globe ef I hadn’t seen their bones. I come 
acrost a little salt lick last night — we may see it in 
passin’ afore mornin’ — but thar wuz big bones ’roun’ 
it too. I measured myself by ’em an’ geewhillikins, 
Henry, what critters them wuz! Ef I’d been caught 
out o’ my cave after night an’ one o’ them things got 
after me I’d hev been so skeered that I’d hev dropped 
my stone club ’cause my hands trembled so, my teeth 
would hev rattled together in reg’lar tunes, an’ I’d hev 
run so fast that I’d only h^v touched the tops o’ the 
hills, skippin’ all the low ones too, an’ by the time I 
reached the mouth o’ my cave, I’d be goin’ so swift that 
I’d run clear out o’ my clothes, leavin’ ’em fur the 
monster to trample on an’ then chaw up, me all the 
while settin’ inside the cave safe, but tremblin’ all over, 
an’ with no appetite. Them shore wuz lively times fur 
our race, Henry, an’ I guess we did a pow’ful lot o’ 
runnin’ an’ hidin’.” 

“It was certainly time to run, Sol, when a tiger eight 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


feet high and fifteen feet long got after you, or a mam- 
moth or a mastodon twenty feet high and fifty feet long 
was feeling around in the bushes for you with a trunk 
that could pick you up and throw you a mile.” 

“Henry, ef we wuzn’t in a hurry Pd stop here an' 
give thanks.” 

“What for?” 

“ 'Cause I didn’t live in them times, when the beast 
wuz bigger an’ mightier than the man. I guess stone 
caves that run back into mountains 'bout a mile wuz 
the most pop’lar an' high-priced. Guess those boys an' 
gals didn’t go out much an' dance on the green, ez they 
do back East. I’d a heap ruther hunt the buff’ler than 
that fifteen foot tiger o' yours, Henry.'' 

“So had I, Sol. If those beasts were living nowa- 
days we wouldn’t be roaming through the forest as we 
are now. We have only the Indians to fear.” 

“An’ thar's a lot about them to be afeard of at times, 
ez you an' me know, Henry.” 

“If we keep on this curve, Sol, about what time do 
you think we ought to reach the boys ?” 

“Afore moonrise, jest about when the night is dark- 
est, 'less somethin' gits in the way. Here's another 
branch, Henry. Guess we'd better wade in it a right 
smart distance. You can’t ever be too keerful about 
your trail.” 

The branch, or brook, as it would have been called 
in older communities, was rather wide, about six inches 
deep and flowing over a smooth, gravelly bed. It was 
flowing in the general direction in which they wished 
to go, and they walked in the stream a full half mile. 

ii6 


THE KING WOLF 


Then they emerged upon the bank, careless of wet feet 
and wet ankles, which they knew would soon dry under 
severe exercise, and continued their swift journey. 

The curiosity of the shiftless one about the primeval 
world had passed for the time, and like Henry he was 
concentrating all his energy and attention upon the 
present, which was full enough of work and danger. 
He and the young Hercules together made a matchless 
pair. He was second only to Henry in the skill and lore 
of the wilderness. He was a true son of the forest, and, 
though uneducated in the bookish sense, he was so full 
of wiles and cunning that he was the Ulysses of the five, 
and as such his fame had spread along the whole 
border, and among the Indian tribes. Hidden per- 
haps by his lazy manner, but underneath that yellow 
thatch of his the shiftless one was a thinker, a deep 
thinker, and a nobler thinker than the one who sat 
before Troy town, because his thoughts were to save 
the defenseless. 

''Henry,” he said, "we’re followed.” 

Henry glanced back, and in the moonlit dusk he 
saw a score of forms, enlarged in the shadows, their 
eyes red and their teeth bare. 

"A wolf pack!” he exclaimed. 

"Shore ez you live,” replied the shiftless one. 
"Reckon they’ve been follerin’ us ever since we left 
the branch. Mebbe they never saw men afore an’ 
don’t know nothin’ ’bout guns that kill at a distance, 
an’ ag’in mebbe they’ve been driv off thar huntin' 
grounds by the warriors, an’ think we kin take the 
place o’ their reg’lar game.” 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


‘‘Anyway I don’t like it.” 

“Neither do I. Look at that old fellow in the lead. 
Guess he’s called a giant among ’em. I kin see the 
slaver failin’ from his mouth. He’s thinkin’ o’ you, 
Henry, ’cause there’s more meat on you than there 
is on me.” 

“I don’t know about that. You’d make a fine dish 
for the table of the wolf king. Roasted and served 
up whole they’d save you for the juicy finish, the last 
gorgeous touch to the feast.” 

“Don’t talk that way, Henry. You make me 
shiver all over. I ain’t afeard o’ a wolf, but ef I 
didn’t hev a rifle, an’ you wuzn’t with me, I’d be 
plum’ skeered at them twenty back thar, follerin’ us 
lookin’ at us an’ slaverin’.” 

The shiftless one shook his fist at the king wolf, an 
enormous beast, the largest that they had ever seen 
in Kentucky. The whole troop was following them, 
their light feet making no noise in the grass and 
leaves, but their red eyes and white teeth always 
gleaming in the moonlight. They were showing an 
uncommon daring. Lone hunters had been killed and 
eaten in the winter by starving wolves, but it was 
seldom that two men in the spring were followed in 
such a manner. It became weird, uncanny and 
ominous. 

“I know what’s happened,” said the shiftless one 
suddenly. “I kin tell you why they follow us so bold.” 

“What’s the reason, Sol ?” 

“You know all them ’normous tigers and hijeous 
monsters we’ve been talkin’ ’bout, that’s been dead a 

ii8 


THE KING WOLF 


hundred thousan' years. Thar souls cornin' down 
through other animals hev gone straight into our pack 
o’ wolves thar. They ain’t wolves really. They’re 
big tigers an’ mammoths an’ sech like.” 

‘T’m not disputing what you say, Sol, because I 
don’t know anything about it, but if it wasn’t for 
raising an alarm I’d shoot that king wolf there, who 
is following us so close. I can tell by his eyes that 
he expects to eat us both.” 

“What kind o’ tigers wuz it that Paul said lived 
long ago, an’ growed so monstrous big?” 

“Saber-toothed.” 

“Then that king wolf back thar wuz tlie king o’ 
the saber-toothed tigers in his time. He wuz twelve 
feet high and twenty-five feet long an’ he could carry 
off on his shoulder the biggest bull buffaler that ever 
wuz, an’ eat him at a meal.” 

“That would have been a good deal of a dinner, 
even for an emperor among saber-toothed tigers.” 

“But I’m right about that wolf, Henry. I kin see 
it in his eye, an’ them behind him are nigh ez bad. 
They wuz all saber-toothed tigers in thar time. I 
reckon that in thar wolf souls or tiger souls, which-' 
ever they be, they expect to eat us afore day. I’d like 
pow’ful well to put a bullet at ween the eyes o’ thar 
king — jes. ez you said you would, Henry.” 

“But it' •■ot to be thought of. Sound would travel 
far on a still night like this, and the warriors might 
be within hearing. It’s hard on the nerves, but we’ve 
got to stand it.” 

They hoped that the wolves would drop the trail 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


soon, but their wish did not come true. However 
they twisted and turned, whether they went slow or 
fast, the sinister pack was always there, the king wolf 
a foot or so in advance, like the point to the head of 
an arrow. Often the flickering shadows exaggerated 
him to twice his usual size, and then in truth he sug- 
gested his saber-toothed predecessor of long, long ago. 

‘‘This is becomin’ pow’ful w'arin’ to the nerves, 
Henry,’’ said the shiftless one. “I’d ruther hev a 
clean fight with a half-dozen warriors than be follered 
this way. It teches my pride. I’ve got a mighty lot 
o’ pride, an’ it hurts me awful to hev my pride hurt.” 

“Because we don’t shoot or do anything I think 
they’ve assumed that we’re powerless to fight. Still, 
there is something about the human odor that deters 
’em.” 

“S’pose you’re right, but I’m goin’ to try a trick. 
When you see me stumble, Henry, you go right on, 
till I’m eight or ten feet behind you.” 

“All right, Sol, but don’t stumble too much.” 

“I ain’t likely to do it at sech a time. Look out, 
now! Here I stumble!” 

He caught his foot in a root, plunged forward, al- 
most fell, recovered his balance slowly and with 
apparent difficulty. Henry ran on, but in a half minute 
he turned quickly. With a horrible snarl and yelp 
the king wolf sprang, and the others behind him 
sprang also. Henry’s rifle leaped to his shoulder, and 
then the king wolf jumped away, the others following 
him. 

The shiftless one rejoined Henry and they ran a 




THE KING WOLF 


little faster. His face was pale and one or two drops 
of perspiration fell from it. His breath was longer 
than mere flight would make it. 

‘T ain’t goin’ to try that ag’in, Henry,” he said. 
“No more foolin’ with sudden death. He’s shorely 
the big tiger, the biggest o^ them all that wuz. Why, 
when I stumbled he leaped like lightnin’. I didn’t 
think anythin’, not even a wolf, could be so quick.” 

“The rifle frightened them off. They didn’t know 
what it was, but they were afraid it had something to 
do with wounds and death. Still, they’re running a 
little closer to us than they were. That’s about all 
that’s come of your experiment, Sol.” 

“I ain’t goin’ to try it over ag’in, Henry, but it 
shorely begins to look ez ef we’d hev to use the bullets 
on ’em. I don’t think anythin’ else will stop ’em.” 

“A little while longer, Sol, and they may abandon 
the chase. We must hold our fire just as long as pos- 
sible. A shot may bring a cloud of the red hornets 
about us.” 

The shiftless one was silent. He knew as well as 
Henry that a shot was unwise. They were bearing 
back now toward the stone fortress and the Indian 
camps, and the forests near might be full of warriors. 
Yet it was a tremendous strain upon one’s nerves to 
be followed in such a manner. The wolves had come 
so close now that they could hear the light pad of 
their feet. Once Shi f ’less Sol picked up a stone and 
hurled it at the king wolf. The great shag^ beast 
leaped aside, but it struck a wolf behind him, drawing 
an angry snarl, in which all the wolves joined. 


I2I 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAHL, 


Henry felt relief when they gave tongue, although 
the snarl was not loud. Hitherto they had pursued 
in total silence, which he had deemed unnatural and 
that angry yelp made them real wolves of the forest 
again. 

"‘About how far would you say it is now to the 
cave?’' he asked the shiftless one. 

“Three or four miles, but with our lope it won’t take 
us long to cover it. What hev you got in mind, 
Henry ?” 

“I think we’ve got to kill the king wolf. I didn’t 
think so a little while ago, but they follow us hoping 
that some accident, a fall perhaps, will make us their 
prey.” 

“Do it then, Henry, an’ take all the chances. I’m 
growin’ mighty tired o’ bein’ follered by wolves that 
are re’ly tigers. After you shoot, we’ll turn to the 
left an’ run ez hard ez we kin.” 

Henry whirled suddenly about and raised his rifle. 
The king wolf, as if divining his purpose, sheered to 
one side, but he was confronting the deadliest marks- 
man in the woods. The muzzle of Henry’s rifle fol- 
lowed him, and when he pulled the trigger the bullet 
crashed through the great beast’s skull. 

When the king wolf fell dead the others stopped, 
stricken with terror, but from a point to the east came 
the long thrilling note of the war w^hoop. The war- 
riors had heard the shot, and, knowing they w^ould 
come swiftly to its sound, Henry and the shiftless one, 
turning due west, ran with amazing speed through 
the forest. 


122 


CHAPTER VII 


THE FOREST POETS 

H enry and the shiftless one knew that they had 
drawn danger upon themselves, but they had 
nothing to regret. The pursuit by the wolves 
had become intolerable. In time it was bound to 
unsettle their nerves, and it was better to take the risk 
from the warriors. 

‘‘How far away would you say that war whoop 
was?’’ asked Henry. 

“ ’Bout a quarter o’ a mile but it’ll take ’em some 
little time to find our trail. An’ ef you an’ me, Henry, 
can’t leave ’em, ez ef they wuz standin’, then we ain’t 
what we used to be.” 

Presently they heard the war cry a second time, 
although its note was fainter. 

“Hit our trail!” said the shiftless one. 

“But they can never overtake us in the night,” said 
Henry. “We’ve come to stony ground now, and the 
best trailers in the world couldn’t follow you and me 
over it.” 

“No,” said the shiftless one, with some pride in his 
yoice. “We’re not to be took that way, but that band 


123 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAH. 


an' mebbe more are in atween us an' our fine house 
in the cliff, an' we won’t get to crawl in our little beds 
tonight. It ain’t to be risked, Henry." 

‘That's so. We seem to be driven in a circle 
around the place to which we want to go, but we can 
afford to wait as well as the Indian army can, and 
better. Here's another branch and we’d better use it 
to throw that band off the trail.” 

They waded in the pebbly bed of the brook for a 
long distance. Then they walked on stones, leaping 
lightly from one to another, and, when they came to 
the forest, thick with grapevines they would often 
swing from vine to vine over long spaces. Both found 
an odd pleasure in their flight. They were matching 
the Indian at his tricks, and when pushed they could 
do even better. They knew that the trail was broken 
beyond the hope of recovery, and, late in the night, 
after passing through hilly country, they sat down 
to rest. 

They were on the slope of the last hill, sitting under 
the foliage of an oak, and before them lay a wide 
valley, in which the trees, mostly oaks, were scattered 
as if they grew in a great park. But the grass every- 
where was thick and tall, and down the center flowed 
a swift creek which in the moonlight looked like 
molten silver. The uncommon brightness of the night, 
with its gorgeous clusters of stars, disclosed the full 
beauty of the valley, and the two fugitives who were 
fugitives no longer felt it intensely. Henry was an 
educated youth of an educated stock, and Shif’less 
Sol, the forest runner, was born with a love and 


124 


THE FOREST POETS 


admiration in his soul of Nature in all its aspects. 

'‘Don’t it look fine, Henry?” said the shiftless one. 
"Ef I hed to sleep in a house all the time, which, 
thanks be, I don’t hev to do, I’d build me a cabin right 
here in this little valley. Ain’t it jest the nicest place 
you ever saw? Unless I’ve mistook my guess, that’s 
a lot o’ buff’ler lyin’ down in the grass in front o’ us.”, 

"Eight of ’em. I can count ’em,” said Henry, "but 
they’re safe from us.” 

"I wouldn’t fire on ’em, not even ef thar wuzn’t a 
warrior within a hundred miles o’ us. I don’t feel 
like shootin’ at anythin’ jest now, Henry.” 

"It’s the valley that makes you feel so peaceful. 
It has the same effect on me.” 

"I think I kin see wild flowers down thar bloomin’ 
among the bushes, an’ ain’t that grass an’ them trees 
fine? an’ that is shorely the best creek I’ve seen. Its 
water is so pure it looks like silver. I’ve a notion, 
Henry, that this wuz the Garden o’ Eden.” 

"That’s an odd idea of yours, Sol. How can you 
prove it’s so?” 

"An’ how can you prove it ain’t so? An’ so we’re 
back whar we started. Besides, I kin pile up evidence. 
All along the edge o’ the valley are briers an’ vines, 
on which the berries growed. Then too thar are lots 
o’ grapevines on the trees ez you kin see, an’ thar are 
your grapes. An’ up toward the end are lots o’ hick’ry 
an’ walnut trees an’ thar are your nuts, an’ ef Adam 
an’ Eve wuz hard-pushed, they could ketch plenty o’ 
fine fish in that creek which I kin see is deep. In the 
winter they could hev made themselves a cabin easy. 


125 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 

up thar whar the trees are thick. An’ the whole place 
in the spring is full o’ wild flowers, which Eve must 
hev stuck her hair full of to please Adam. The more * 
I think o’ it, Henry, the shorer I am that this wuz 
the Garden.” 

The shiftless one’s face was rapt and serious. In 
the burnished silver of the moonlight the little valley 
had a beauty, dreamlike in its quality. In that land so 
truly named the Dark and Bloody Ground it seemed 
the abode of unbroken peace. 

‘T reckon,” said Shif’less Sol, ‘^that after the fall 
Adam an’ Eve left by that rift between the hills, an’ 
thar the Angel stood with the Flamin’ Sword to keep 
’em out. O’ course they might hev crawled back 
down the hillside here, an’ in other places, but I guess 
they wuz afeard. It’s hard to hev had a fine thing an’ 
then to hev lost it, harder than never to hev had it or 
to hev knowed what it wuz. I guess, Henry, that 
Adam an’ Eve came often to the hills here an’ looked 
down at their old home, till they wuz skeered away by 
the flamin’ o’ the Angel’s sword.” 

‘^But there’s nothing now to keep us out of it. 
We’ll go down there, Sol, because it is a garden after 
all, a wilderness garden, and nothing but Indians can 
drive us from it until we want to go.” 

"‘All right, Henry. You lead on now, but remember 
that since Adam an’ Eve hev gone away this is my 
Garden o’ Eden. It’s shore a purty sight, now that 
it’s beginnin’ to whiten with the day.” 

Dawn in truth was silvering the valley, and in the 
clear pure light it stood forth in all its beauty and 


THE FOREST POETS 


peace. It was filled, too, with life. Besides the buf- 
faloes they saw deer, elk, swarming small game, and 
an immense number of singing birds. The morning 
was alive with their song and when they came to the 
deep creek, and saw a fish leap up now and then, the 
shiftless one no longer had the slightest doubt. 

‘Tt’s shorely the Garden,’^ he said. ‘‘Listen to them 
birds, Henry. Did you ever hear so many at one time 
afore, all singin’ together ez ef every one wuz tryin' 
to beat every other one ?’’ 

“No, Sol, I haven't. It is certainly a beautiful 
place. Look at the beds of wild flowers in bloom." 

“An' the game is so tame it ain't skeered at us a 
bit. I reckon, Henry, that 'till we came no human 
foot hez ever trod this valley, since Adam an' Eve 
had to go." 

“Maybe not, Sol! Maybe not," said Henry, trying 
to smile at the shiftless one's fancy, but failing. 

“An' thar's one thing I want to ask o' you, Henry. 
Thar's millions an' millions an' billions an' billions o' 
acres in this country that belong to nobody, but I 
want to put in a sort o' claim o' my own on the Gar- 
den o' Eden here. Thar are times when every man 
likes to be all by hisself, fur a while. You know how 
it is yourself, Henry. Jest rec'lect then that the 
Garden is mine. When I’m feelin' bad, which ain't 
often. I’ll come here an' set down 'mong the flowers, 
an' hear all them birds sing, same ez Adam an' Eve 
heard 'em, an' d'rectly I'll feel glad an' strong ag’in." 

“Where there's so much unused country you ask 
but little, Sol. It's your Garden of Eden. But you'll 


127 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


let the rest of us come into it sometimes, won^t you?’' 

‘‘Shorely! Shorely! I didn’t mean to be selfish 
about it. I’ve got some venison in my knapsack, 
Henry, an’ I reckon you hev some too. I’d like to hev 
it warm, but it’s too dangerous to build a fire. S’pose 
we set, an’ eat.” 

The soil of the valley was so fertile that the grass 
was already high enough to hide them, when they lay 
down near the edge of the creek. There they ate their 
venison and listened to the musical tinkle of the rush- 
ing water, while the sun rose higher, and turned the 
luminous silver of the valley into luminous gold. They 
heard light footfalls of the deer moving, and the 
birds sang on, but there was no human sound in the 
valley. Their great adventure, the Indian camp, and 
the manifold dangers seemed to float away for the 
time. If it was not the Garden of Eden it was an- 
other garden of the same kind, and it looked very 
beautiful to these two who had spent most of the night 
running for their lives. They were happy, as they ate 
venison and the last crumbs of their bread. 

‘Tf the others wuz here,” said Shif’less Sol, 
‘‘nothin’ would be lackin’. I’m in love with the wil- 
derness more an’ more every year, Henry. One reason 
is ’cause Fm always cornin’ on somethin’ new. I ain’t 
no tied-down man. Here I’ve dropped into the Gar- 
den o’ Eden that’s been lost fur thousands o’ years, 
an’ tomorrow I may be findin’ some other wonder. I 
rec’lect my feelin’ the first time I saw the Ohio, an’ 
I’ve looked too upon the big river that the warriors 
call the Father o’ Waters. I’m always findin’ some 


128 


THE FOREST POETS 


new river or creek or lake. Nothin’s old, or all trod 
up or worn out. Some day Fm goin’ way out on 
them plains that you’ve seed, Henry, where the buf- 
f’ler are passin’ millions strong. I tell you I love to 
go with the wind, an’ at night, when I ain’t quite 
asleep, to hear it blowin’ an’ blowin’, an’ tellin’ me 
that the things I’ve found already may be fine, but 
thar’s finer yet farther on. I hear Paul talkin’ ’bout 
the Old World, but thar can’t be anythin’ in it half ez 
fine ez all these woods in the fall, jest blazin’ with red 
an’ yellow, an’ gold an’ brown, an’ the air sparklin’ 
enough to make an old man young.” 

The face of the shiftless one glowed as he spoke. 
Every word he said came straight from his heart and 
Henry shared in his fervor. The wild men who slew 
and scalped could not spoil his world. He had finished 
his venison, and, drinking cold water at the edge of 
the creek, he came back and lay down again in the 
long grass. 

“Perhaps we’d better stay here the most of the 
day,” said Henry. “The valley seems to be out of the 
Indian line of march. The buffaloes are over there 
grazing peacefully, and I can see does at the edge of 
the woods. If warriors were near they wouldn’t be 
so peaceful.” 

“And there are the wild turkeys gobblin’ in the 
trees,” said Shi f ’less Sol. “I like wild turkey mighty 
well, but even ef thar wuz no fear o’ alarm I wouldn’t 
shoot any one in my Garden o’ Eden.” 

“Nor I either, Sol. I’m beginning to like this 
valley as well as you do. Your claim to it stands good. 


129 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


but when we’re on our hunting expeditions up this 
way again the five of us will come here and camp.” 

‘'But we’ll kill our game outside. I’ve a notion 
that I don’t want to shoot anythin’ in here.” 

“I understand you. It’s too fine a place to have 
blood flowing in it.” 

“That’s jest the way I feel about it, Henry. You 
may laugh at me fur bein’ a fool, but the notion sticks 
to me hard an’ fast.” 

“I’m not laughing at you. If you’ll raise up a 
little, Sol, you can see the smoke of the main Indian 
campfire off there toward the northeast. It looks like 
a thread from here, and it’s at least five miles away.” 

“It’s a big smoke, then, or we wouldn’t see it at 
all, ’cause we can’t make out that o’ the smaller one 
nearer to the cave, though I reckon it’s still thar.” 

“Perhaps so, and the warriors may come this way, 
but we’ll see ’em and hear ’em first. Look, Sol, those 
buffaloes, in their grazing, are coming straight toward 
us. The wind has certainly carried to them our odor, 
but they don’t seem to be alarmed by it.” 

“Jest another proof, Henry, that it’s the real Gar- 
den o’ Eden. Them buff’ler haven’t seen or smelt 
a human bein’ since Adam an’ Eve left, an’ ez that 
wuz a long time ago they’ve got over any* feelin’ o’ 
fear o’ people, ef they ever had it. Look at them 
deer, too, over thar, loafin’ ’long through the high 
grass, an’ not skeered o’ anythin’. An’ the wolves 
that follered us last night don’t come here. Thar 
ain’t a sign o’ a wolf ever hevin’ been in the valley.” 

Henry laughed, but there was no trace of irony in 


130 


THE FOREST POETS 


the laugh. The shiftless one’s vivid fancy or belief 
pleased him. It was possible, too, that Indians would 
not come there. It might be some sacred place of 
the old forgotten people who had built the mounds 
and who had been exterminated by the Indians. But 
the Indians were full of superstition, and often they 
feared and respected the sacred places of those whom 
they had slain. For the boldest of the warriors, 
avenging spirits might be hovering there,, and they 
would fear them more than they would fear the white 
men with rifles. 

‘'Let’s go up to the head of the valley,” he said to 
Shi f ’less Sol. “If we keep back among the bushes 
we won’t be seen.” 

“All right,” said his comrade. “I want to see that 
gate between the hills, that the creek comes from, an’ 
I want to take a look, too, at that grove o’ big trees 
growin’ than” 

Henry reckoned the length of the valley at two 
miles and its width at a half mile on the average, 
with the creek flowing down almost its exact center. 
At the head it narrowed fast, until it came to the 
gash between the hills, where grew the largest oaks 
and elms that he had ever seen. It was in truth a 
magnificent grove and it gave the shiftless one ex- 
treme delight which he expressed vocally. He sur- 
veyed the trees and the hills behind them with a meas- 
uring and comprehensive eye. 

“Them hills ain’t so high,” he said, “but they’re 
high enough to shut out the winds o’ winter, bein’ 
ez they face the north an’ west, an’ here curves the 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


creek atween ’em, through a gap not more’n ten feet 
wide. An’ look how them big trees grow so close 
together, an’ in a sort o’ curve. Why, that’s shorely 
whar Adam an’ Eve spent thar winters. It wouldn’t 
take much work, thatching with poles an’ bark to rig 
up the snuggest kind o’ a bower. These big trees 
here ag’inst the cliff almost make a cabin themselves.” 

‘‘And one that we’ll occupy the rest of the day. 
It would be impossible for a warrior ten yards away 
to see us in here, while we can see almost the whole 
length of the valley. I think we’d better stay here, 
Sol, and make ourselves comfortable for the rest of 
the day. You need sleep, and rso wfill I later. It’s 
easy to make beds. The dead leaves must lie a foot 
thick on the ground.” 

“It’s a wonder they ain’t thicker, gatherin’ here 
ever since Adam an’ Eve moved.” 

“They rot beneath and the wind blows away a lot 
on top, but there’s plenty left. Now, I’m not sleepy 
at all. You take a nap and I’ll watch, although I’m 
sure no enemy will come.” 

“Reckon I will, Henry. It’s peaceful an’ soothin’ 
here in the Garden o’ Eden, an’ ef I dream I’ll dream 
good dreams.” 

He heaped up the leaves in the shape of a bed, 
giving himself a pillow, and, sinking down upon it 
luxuriously, soon slept. Henry also piled the leaves 
high enough against the trunk of one of the largest 
trees to form a cushion for his back, and settled him- 
self into a comfortable position, with his rifle across 
his knees. 


132 


THE FOREST POETS 


Although he had been up all the night he was not 
sleepy. The shiftless one^s striking fancy had ex- 
erted a great effect upon him. This was the Garden 
of Eden. It must be, and some ancient influence, 
something that he would probably never know, pro- 
tected it from invasion. He marked once more the 
fearless nature of its inhabitants. He could see now 
three small groups of buffaloes and all of them grazed 
in perfect peace and content. Nowhere was there a 
sign of the wolves that usually hung about to cut out 
the calves or the very old. He saw deer in the grass 
along the creek, and they were oblivious of danger. 

But what impressed him most of all was the pro- 
fusion of singing birds and their zeal and energy. 
The chorus of singing and chattering rose and fell 
now and then, but it never ceased. The valley itself 
fairly sang with it, and in the opening before him 
there were incessant flashes of red and blue, as the 
most gaily dressed of the little birds shot past. 

His eyes turned toward the gap, where the shiftless 
one had placed the Angel with the Flaming Sword. 
It was only a few hundred yards away, and he was 
able to see that it was but a narrow cleft between the 
hills. While he looked he saw a human figure appear 
upon the crest of the hill, outlined perfectly against 
the sun which was a blazing shield of gold behind 
him. 

It was a savage warrior, tall, naked, save for the 
breech cloth, his face and body thick with war paint, 
the single scalp lock standing up defiantly. The 
luminous glow overcoming the effect of distance, 


133 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


enlarged him. He seemed twice his real height. 

The warrior was gazing down into the valley, but 
Henry saw that he did not move. His figure was 
rigid. He merely looked and nothing more. Pres- 
ently two more figures of warriors appeared, one on 
either side, and they too were raised by the golden 
glow to twice their stature. All three stared intently 
into the valley. Henry put his hand on the shoulder of 
his comrade and shook him. 

“What? What? What is it?” exclaimed the shift- 
less one sleepily. 

“Three Indian warriors on the highest hill that 
overlooks the valley, but they’re not coming in. 
I think that the Angel with the Flaming Sword is in 
the way.” 

Shifless Sol was all awake now, and he stared 
long at the motionless warriors. 

“No, they ain’t cornin’ down in the valley,” he said 
at last. “I don’t know how I know it, but I do.” 

“Perhaps it’s because they don’t see the remotest 
sign of an enemy here.” 

“Partly that I reckon, an’ fur other reasons too. 
Thar, they’re goin’ away! I expect, Henry, that 
them warriors are a part o’ the band that wuz lookin’ 
fur us. They don’t keer to come into the valley, but 
they might hev been tempted hard to come, ef they’d 
a’ saw us. Mebbe it’s a good thing that we came here 
into Adam’s an’ Eve’s home.” 

“It was certainly not the wrong thing. Those 
warriors are gone now, and I predict that none will 
come in their place.” 


134 


THE FOREST POETS 


‘‘That’s a shore thing. Now, ez Tve had my nap, 
Henry, you take yourn. Rec’lect that it’s always 
watch an’ watch with us.” 

Henry knew that the shiftless one would not like 
it, if he did not take his turn, and, making his leafy 
bed, he was soothed to quick sleep by the singing of the 
birds. 

Then the shiftless one propped his back against 
a bank of leaves between him and the trunk of a 
tree, and, with the rifle across his knees, watched. 
The great peace that he had felt continued. The fact 
that the Indians had merely come to the crest of the 
hill and looked into the valley, then going away, con- 
firmed him in his beliefs. As long as Henry and he 
stayed there, they would be safe. But safety beyond 
that day was not what they were seeking. That night 
they must surely reach the other three, although they 
would enjoy the present to the full. 

Shif’less Sol’s plastic and senisitive mind had been 
affected by his meeting with Henry. Despite his 
great confidence in the skill and strength of the young 
leader, he had been worried by his long absence and 
his meeting with him had been an immense relief. 
This and their coming into the happy valley had put 
him in an exalted state. The poetical side of nature 
always met with an immediate response in him, and 
like the Indian he personified the winds, and the moon 
and stars and sun, and all the objects and forces that 
were factors in wild life. 

Lying closely among his leaves he watched the 
buffaloes and the deer. Some of the bigger animals 


135 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


as the day grew and the sun increased, lay down ia 
the grass near him, showing no sign of fear, although 
they must have been aware of his presence. A flight 
of wild geese descended from the sky, drank at the 
stream, swam a little, then rose again and were gone, 
their forms blending into a single great arrow shoot- 
ing northward through the blue. 

ShiPless Sol did not wonder that they had dropped 
down into the valley for a moment or two, breaking 
their immeasurable flight into the far north. They 
had known that they would be safe in this little way 
station, and it was yet another confirmation of his 
beliefs. He watched the arrow so sharply outlined 
against the blue until it was gone in the vast sky, and 
a great wonder and awe filled the soul of the shiftless 
one. He had seen such flights countless times before, 
but now he began to think about the instinct that sent 
them on such vast journeys through the ether from 
south to north and back again, in an endless repe- 
tition as long as they lived. What journeys and what 
rivers and lakes and forests and plains they must 
see! Man was but a crawler on the earth, compared 
with them. Then wild ducks came, did as the geese 
had done, and then they too were gone in the same 
flight into the illimitable north that swallowed up 
everything. 

It was in the mind of the shiftless one that he too 
would like to go into that vast unknown North some 
day, if the fighting in Kentucky ever came to an end. 
He had been in the land of the Shawnees and 
Miamis, and Wyandots and he knew of the Great 

136 


THE FOREST POETS 


Lakes beyond, but north of them the wilderness Still 
stretched to the edge of the world, where the polar 
ice reigned, eternal. There was no limit to the 
imagination of Shiftless Sol, and in all these gigantic 
wanderings the faithful four, his friends, were with 
him. 

Henry did not awaken until well after noon, but as 
usual his awakening was instantaneous, that is, all 
his faculties were keenly alert at once. He glanced 
down the valley and saw the buffalo and deer feeding, 
and the great chorus of birds was going on. The 
shiftless one, leaning against his bank of leaves, his 
rifle on his knee, was regarding the valley with an air 
of proprietorship. 

What’s happened while I slept?” asked Henry. 

‘"Nothing. You don’t expect anything to happen 
here. It’s got to happen when we leave tonight.” 

‘T think you’re right about it, and as it’s watch and 
watch, you must go to sleep again now.” 

His comrade without any protest stretched himself 
in the leaves and soon slept soundly. Meanwhile 
Henry maintained vigilent watch. In order to keep 
his muscles elastic he rose and walked about a little 
at times, but he did not leave the shelter of the thick 
little grove that the shiftless one had called a bower. 
It well deserved the name, because the trees were so 
close and large, and the foliage was so dense that the 
sunlight could not enter. Indians on the hills could 
not possibly see the two resting there. 

The afternoon drew on, long and warm. Save 
within their shelter the sunlight blazed brilliantly. 


137 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


The buffaloes suddenly charged about for a little while 
and Henry at first thought they had been alarmed by 
the coming of man, but on second thought he put it 
down as mere playing. They were well fed, full of 
life, and they were venting their spirits. They ceased 
soon and lay down in the shade. 

Later in the afternoon another Indian appeared on 
the summit and looked for a little while into the valley, 
but like the others he went away. Henry had felt sure 
that he would. 

Toward night the shiftless one awoke, and they 
ate the last of their food. But the failure of the 
supply did not alarm them. This army was very small 
and if hunger pressed them hard there was the forest, 
or they might filch from the Indian camp. Such as 
they could dare anything, and achieve it, too. 

The sun set, the shadows gathered, and it would 
soon be time to go. The waters of the creek sang 
pleasantly in the ears of the shiftless one, and draw- 
ing a long breath of regret he said good-bye to the 
happy valley. 

“Nuthin’ happened while we wuz here, Henry, he 
said, “and I knowed it wouldn’t happen. Our troubles 
are cornin’ when we cross that line o’ hills over 
thar.” 

He pointed toward the crests. Beyond them, even 
in the twilight, the column of smoke from the great 
Indian camp was still visible, although it disappeared 
a few moments later, as the dusk turned into the 
dark. 

“The place in the cliff lays to the right o’ that 

138 


THE FOREST POETS 


smoke/' said the shiftless one, ‘‘an' jest about cz fur 
from here." 

“We ought to reach it in two hours." 

“Ef nothin' comes in the way." 

“If nothing comes in the way." 

They crossed the valley speedily and soon stood on 
one of the crests that hemmed it in. 

“We’ve had one fine day when we wuzn't thinkin' 
about fightin',” said the shiftless one, looking back. 

“A restful day," said Henry. 

Then the two plunged into the deep forests that 
/•ined the far slopes, and started on their journey. 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE PATH OF DANGER 

B oth Henry and Shiftless Sol had a clear idea 
of direction, and they could lay a line, like a 
chain bearer, toward the rock fortress, where 
they felt sure their comrades were lying in comfort- 
able and hidden security. But back now in the deep 
forest the atmosphere of peace and content that they 
had breathed in the happy valley was gone, instead it 
was surcharged with war and danger. 

‘T miss our Garden o' Eden," whispered ShiPless 
Sol regretfully. ‘‘We’re already back where men are 
fightin’ an’ tryin’ to kill." 

“I thought perhaps most of the army had already 
gone south, but there’s the column of smoke as big as 
ever, and also the second column nearer to our 
home." 

“An’ here’s a creek that we’ll hev to cross. Looks 
deep too. Strike a feller ’bout the middle." 

“Maybe we can find a shallower place or a tree 
that has fallen all the way across it.” 

They ran along its bank for some distance, but 
finding no place where the water looked shallow 


140 


THK PATH OF DANGER 


plunged in, holding their weapons and ammunition 
clear of the surface. As they emerged on the other 
shore, a warrior standing in the bushes about forty 
yards away uttered a shout and fired at them. But 
tl'fe Indian is never a good marksman and in the dusk 
hiit bullet cut the leaves at least three feet over their 
heads. 

His warning shout and shot was followed by a 
yell from at least twenty others who lay about a small 
fire in a glade a hundred yards beyond. Thick bushes 
had hid the coals from the sight of Henry and the 
shiftless one and now, taking no time to reply to the 
bullet of the warrior, who stood, empty gun in hand, 
they turned and ran swiftly toward the north, while 
lifter them came the whole yelling pack. 

‘'We’ve shorely left the Garden o’ Eden, Henry,” 
said the shiftless one. “They didn’t do sech things 
ez these thar in Adam or Eve’s times, nor in ourn. 
We come purty nigh walkin’ plum’ into a trap.” 

“And we’ve got to shake ’em off. We mustn’t run 
toward the stone hollow, because that would merely 
draw ’em down on all of us. We must lead away to 
the west again, Sol.” 

“You’re right, Henry, but that confounded creek’s 
in the way. I kin see it off on the left an’ I notice 
that it’s growin’ wider an’ deeper, ez it flows on to the 
Ohio. They’ve got us hemmed in ag’inst it.” 

“But Sol, they’ll have to do a lot before they catch 
.such as you and me.” 

“That’s so, Henry. I guess we’re right hard to 
ketch. I’m proud to be a fugitive ’long o’ you.” 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRALL 


Henry glanced back and saw the long line of dusky 
figures following them through woods over hills and 
across valleys with all the tenacity of a pack of 
wolves pursuing a deer. He knew that they would 
hang on to the last, and while he was sure that he and 
Shi {‘less Sol could distance them, if they used their 
utmost speed, he was in continuous apprehension lest 
they stir up some other band or at least stray warriors, 
as the forest was full of them. The creek was a bar 
holding them to an almost straight line. It was wide 
and too deep except for swimming, rising almost to 
the proportions of a river. Henry calculated too that 
the creek did not flow far west of their hollow in the 
rock, and thus they were forced, despite their wishes, 
to run toward the very place they wished to avoid. 

‘‘We've certainly had bad luck," he said to Sol, 
“and I think we've stirred up a regular hornet's nest. 
Hark to that!" 

From their right came a swelling war whoop with 
the ferocious whining note at the end, and the eyes 
of the two fugitives met. Each, despite the dark, 
could read the alarm in the face of the other. They 
had not run out of the trap. Instead the trap 
was about to be sprung upon them. With the unford- 
able stream on one side of them an Indian band on 
the other, and an Indian band behind them their case 
was indeed serious. The transition from the Garden 
of Eden to a world of danger was sudden and 
complete. 

The band in the rear gave answer to the cry of 
their comrades in the west, and Henry and the shift- 


142 


THE PATH OF DANGER 


less one had never before heard a whoop so full of 
exultation and ferocity. Henry understood it as truly 
as if it had been spoken in words. It said that the 
fugitives were surely theirs, that they would be caught 
very soon, that they would be given to the torture 
and that all the warriors should see the flames lick 
around their bare bodies. 

A red mist appeared before the eyes of Henry The 
wonderful peace, and the kindness toward all things 
that had enwrapped him, as he lay all day long in the 
happy valley, were gone. Instead his veins were 
flushed with anger. The warriors would exult over 
the torture and death of his comrades and himself. 
Well, he would show them that a man could not be 
burnt at the stake, until he was caught, and it was 
easy to exult too soon. 

He whirled for an instant, raised his rifle, fired, 
whirled back again and then ran on. The whole mo- 
tion, the brief curve about, and then the half circle 
back, seemed one, and yet, as the two ran on, they 
heard a warrior utter a death shout, as he fell in the 
forest. 

“I reckon they’ll keep back a little when they learn 
how we kin shoot,” said Shif’less Sol. ‘‘Yes, they’re 
not so close, by at least thirty yards. Now, how 
foolish that is!” 

The Indians fired a dozen shots, but all their bullets 
flew wild. Then a pattering upon leaves and bark, 
but neither of the flying two was touched. 

“Foolish, so it was,” said Henry, “but it was anger 
too. Now, hark to that, will you!” 


143 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


The shots were succeeded by a war cry, again on 
their right, but much nearer than before. Henry took 
a longing to look at the creek, but if they attempted 
to ford it the warriors would almost certainly shoot 
them while swimming. He and his comrade must 
make a great spurt to escape being cut off by the sec- 
ond force. 

“Now, Sol,'' he said, “you're a good runner. So 
am I, and we need to fly like deer. You know why." 

“I reckon I do." 

The speed of the two suddenly increased. They 
went forward now, as if they were shot from a bow. 
Fortunately there were no pitfalls. The ground was 
not strewn with vines and brush to entrap them, and 
seeing that the two fugitives would be well ahead 
before the junction of the two bands could be formed, 
the band behind them sent forth its war whoop. But 
to Henry with his sensitive ear attuned to every shade 
of feeling that night the cry was not so full of exulta- 
tion and triumph as the one before. 

“Afraid the trap will fail to shut down on us," he 
said to the shiftless one. 

“I read it that way." 

“A little faster, Sol! A little faster! We must 
make sure!" 

Fortunately the creek now curved to the left, which 
enabled them to draw away from the second band, 
and both feeling that the crisis was at hand put forth 
their utmost powers. Under a burst of magnificent 
speed the ground spun behind them. Trees and 
bushes flitted past. Then they heard the disappointed 


144 


THE PATH OF DANGER 


yell, as the two bands joined, and the firing of shots 
that fell short. 

‘*One danger escaped,'' breathed Henry as they 
slackened speed. 

‘‘But thar's more to come. Still, I'm glad I don’t 
hev to run so fast fur a time. It's fine to be a race 
horse, but you can't be a racin' all the days an' nights 
o' your life." 

“We must cross the creek some way or other, Sol. 
I don't think our rock fortress can now be more than 
ten miles away and we can't afford to bring the 
warriors down on it." 

Shi f 'less Sol nodded. They kept very near to the 
creek and he noticed suddenly that the current was 
shallowing, and had grown much swifter. He in- 
ferred that rapids were ahead, but this was surely the 
place to cross, and he called Henry's attention to it. 
The bank was about six feet above the water and 
Henry said instantly: 

“Jump, Sol, jump! But be sure that you land 
squarely on your feet I" 

The shiftless one nodded. Certainly a m^in could 
not choose a poorer time to turn an ankle. Without 
stopping speed but balancing himself perfectly he 
sprang far out, and Henry sprang with him. There 
were two splashes, as they sank almost to the waists 
in the water, but they were able to keep their powder 
and weapons dry, and in an instant they were at 
the far bank climbing up with all the haste of those 
who know they are about to become targets for 
bullets. 


145 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


They heard the yell of disappointment anew, and 
then the scattering fire of bullets. Two or three pat- 
tered on the stream, but they did not hear the whizz of 
the others, and in an instant they were safely up the 
bank and into the forest. 

‘^Hit, Sol?” said Henry. 

“Nary a hit. An' you?” 

“Untouched.” 

“Come down straight on your feet in the creek ?” 

“Straight as straight can be. And you?” 

“Split the water like a fish. Wet to the middle, but 
happy. I reckon we kin slow down a little now, can’t 
we? I’m a good runner, but I wuzn’t made up to 
go forever.” 

“ We’ll stop a little while in these bushes until we 
can get the fresh breath that we need so badly. But 
you know, Sol, they’ll cross the creek, hunt for our 
trail and follow us.” 

“Let ’em come. We ain’t hemmed in now, an’ 
with a thousand miles o’ space to run in I reckon they 
won’t git us.” 

They lay panting in the bushes a full ten minutes. 
Then their hearts sank to a normal beat, strength 
flowed back into their veins, and, rising they stole 
away, keeping a general course toward the west. 
They went at a rather easy gait for an hour or more, 
but when they rested fifteen minutes they heard at 
the end of that time sounds of pursuit. The warriors 
were showing their usual tenacity on the trail, and 
knowing that it was not wise to delay longer they 
fled again toward the west, though they took careful 

146 



PATH OF DANGER 


note of the country as they went, because they in- 
tended to come bi.ck there again. 

Twice the Indian horde behind them gave tongue, 
sign that the pursuit would be followed to the bitter 
end, but Henry and the shiftless one now had little 
fear for themselves. Their chief apprehension was 
lest they be driven so far to the west they might not 
return in time to allay the doubts and fears of their 
comrades. 

They soon passed from hills into marshy regions 
which to their skilled eyes betokened another creek, 
flowing like its parallel sister into the Ohio. All 
these creeks overflowed widely in the heavy spring 
rains, and they judged that the swampy territory had 
been left by the retreating waters. 

‘‘Ez I think I told you before,’’ said Shif’less Sol, 
‘T’m a mighty good runner. But thar are some things 
I kin do besides runnin’. Runnin’ all night, even 
when you slow up a bit, gits stale. Your mind grows 
mighty tired o’ it even if your feet do plant themselves 
one after another jest like a machine. Now, my mind 
is sayin’ enough, so I think, Henry, we might git 
through this swamp, leavin’ no trail, o’ course, an’ 
rest on some good solid little bit o’ land surrounded 
by a sea o’ mud.” 

“That’s right, Sol. It’s what we must do, but we 
must cross to the other side of the creek before we 
find our oasis.” 

“Oasis! What’s an oasis?” 

“It’s something, surrounded by something else,” 
Henry explained. “Come on now, Sol. Watch your 


147 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAH. 


footing. Don't get yourself any rr.uddier than you 
can help." 

‘‘I'm follerin’, steppin' right in your tracks, over 
which the soft mud draws the minute my foot has 
left ’em. I’m glad thar are lots o’ bushes here, ’cause 
they’ll hide us from any warriors who may be in 
advance o’ the main band.’’ 

The creek was not as deep and wide as the other, 
and they crossed it without trouble. Two hundred 
yards further on they found a tiny island of firm 
ground set thick with saplings and bushes, among 
which they crawled and lay down, until regular 
breathing came back. Then they scraped the mud off 
their moccasins and leggings and sat up on the hard 
earth. 

‘‘An’ so this is an oasis?" said Shif’less Sol. 

‘‘Yes, solid ground, surrounded for a long distance 
by mud." 

“An* with saplin’s an’ bushes so thick that the 
sharpest eyed warrior ever born couldn’t see into it. 
Henry, I’m thinkin’ that we’ve found another little 
home. 

“One that hides us from people passing by, but 
that does not put a roof over our heads or give us 
food to eat." 

“Do you care to rec’lect, Henry, that all our 
venison is gone?" 

“Don’t talk to me about it now. I know we’ll be 
hungry soon, but we’ll just have to be hungry, and 
that’s all." 

“I wish it wus all. I’m hungry right now, an’ I 
148 


THE PATH OF DANGER 


know that the longer I lay here the hungrier Fll git. 
Vm lookin' ahead, Henry, an' I see the time when 
we'll hev to shoot a deer, even ef thar are ten thousand 
warriors in a close ring about us.'’ 

“Peep between those vines, Sol, and you can see 
them now among the bushes on the far side of the 
creek." 

The shiftless one raised himself up a little, and 
looked in the direction that Henry had indicated. 
There was sufficient moonlight to disclose four or 
five warriors who had come to the edge of the swamp 
and stopped. They seemed at a loss, as the mud had 
long since sunk back and covered up the trail, and 
perhaps, also, they hesitated because of the dreaded 
rifles of the two white men, which might be fired at 
them from some unsuspected place. As they hesi- 
tated another figure emerged from the background 
and joined them. 

“Braxton Wyatt!" said Shif'less Sol. “He must 
hev been in the second band that come up. Do you 
think I could reach him with a long shot, Henry?" 

“No, and even if you could you mustn't try. We 
are well hidden now, but a shot would bring them 
down upon us. Let Braxton Wyatt wait. His time 
will corne." 

“Here's hopin' that it’ll come soon. I’m beginnin’ 
to feel a sight better, Henry. Lookin’ over all that 
mud they don’t dream that the fellers they’re lookin’ 
fur are layin’ here in this little clump o’ bushes, like 
two rabbits in their nests." 

“They won’t find us because there is no trail lead- 


149 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


ing here. They’ll be searching the forests on the 
other side, and we can stay here until they go away.” 

‘‘Which would leave us happy ef I wuzn’t so 
hungry. It’s cornin’ on me strong, Henry, that 
hungry feelin’. You know that I’m gen’ally a 
pow’ful feeder.” 

“I know it, but this is a time when you’ll have to 
resist.” 

“I ain’t so shore. I notice that them that want 
things pow’ful bad an’ go after ’em pow’ful hard are 
most always them that gits ’em, an’ that’s me 
tonight.” 

“Well, lie close, and we’ll see what happens, 
there’s Wyatt within reach of my rifle right now, and 
it’s a strong temptation to put a bullet into him. The 
temptation is just as strong in me, Sol, as it has been 
in you.” 

“Then why don’t you do it an’ take the chances? 
We kin git away anyhow.” 

“For several reasons, Sol. I doubt whether we 
could get away, and escape is important not only to 
ourselves — I like my life and you like yours — ^but to 
others as well. Besides, I can’t draw trigger on 
Braxton Wyatt from cover. Cruel as he is, and he’s 
worse than the savages, because he’s a renegade, I 
can’t forget that we were boys at Wareville together.” 

“Still your bullet, most likely, would save the life 
o’ many a man an’ o’ women an’ children too. But 
it’s too late anyhow. He’s gone, an’ them warriors 
hev gone with him. By the great horn spoon, what 
wuz that!” 


THE PATH OF DANGER 


They had now gone to the extreme eastern edge of 
their little covert and a sudden floundering and gasp- 
ing there startled them. A large black figure rose 
up from a dense thicket of alders, pawpaws and small 
willows and gazed at them a moment or two with 
frightened red eyes. 

“A bear,’' exclaimed Shif’less Sol. ‘^Oh, Henry, 
let me shoot ! I kin see his steaks fryin’ over the coals 
now. Thar’s our supper, settin’ on its hind legs not 
ten feet from us.” 

‘‘Don’t you dare do such a thing!” exclaimed 
Henry, laughing. “Why, your shot would bring a 
whole tribe of Indians down upon us 1” 

“I know it, but I do want that bear, an’ I want to 
put the responsibility o’ not gittin’ him on you.” 

“All right. I take it. There he goes and your 
chance, too, is lost.” 

The bear threshed out of his den, clattered across 
the mud flats and entered the forest, whence came in a 
minute the sound of a shot. 

“Thar, the warriors hev got him I” exclaimed 
Shif’less Sol, deep disappointment showing in his 
tone, “and in two or three hours they’ll be cookin’ 
him. An’ he was our bear, too. We saw him first. 
I could see that he was nice an’ fat, even ef it 
wuz early in the year, an’ them steaks belong to 
us.” 

“Maybe they did, but we’ve lost ’em. Now, I think 
we’d better keep quiet. The Indians are probably far 
ahead of us, thinking that we’ve gone that way.” 

The shiftless one subsided into an indignant silence. 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


The oasis was an ideal place for two situated as they 
were, and having the wisdom of the woods they 
remained still and quiet in its cover. But after three 
or four hours the shiftless one became restless. He 
was a man of great strength, and despite his lazy 
manner, of wonderful bodily activity. It took much 
food to satisfy the demands of that powerful frame, 
and he was growing hungrier and hungrier. More- 
over a light wind began to blow from the west, bring- 
ing upon its edge a faint aroma that caused him to 
sit up and sniff inquiringly. The odor grew stronger, 
and he no longer had need to ask questions with his 
nose. He knew, and he knew too well. 

‘‘Henry,’^ he said, ‘‘thar’s our bear jest as I ex- 
pected. They’re cookin’ him, an’ it’s not so fur away 
either !” 

“I think you’re right, but we can’t help it. We 
have to be resigned.” 

*'Mebbe we can’t help it, an’ then ag’in mebbe we 
kin, but anyway I ain’t goin’ to be resigned. I’m 
protestin’ all the time, ’cause it’s my bear. I saw him 
first.” 

The savory odor grew stronger, and the anger and 
indignation of the shiftless one increased. And with 
these two emotions came a third which hardened into 
a resolution. 

‘‘Henry,” he said, “you’re our leader, an’ we most 
always do what you say, but this time I reckon I’ve 
decided fur myself what I’m goin’ to do. I’m growin’ 
hungrier an’ hungrier. Sometimes I put that hunger 
down but in a minute it bounces back up ag’in stronger 


152 


THE PATH OF DANGER 

than ever. It’s my master, gittin’ control over ev’ry 
inch o’ me, an’ I’ve got to listen to what it says. 
I know I’m makin’ a long speech, talkin’ like an Injun 
chief at a council, but I’ve got to explain an’ make 
clear ez day why I’m goin’ to do the thing I’m goin’ 
to do.” 

^‘Go on, Sol. Talk as much as you please. We’ve 
all night before us.” 

‘‘Which is good. Ez I said, hunger has laid hold o’ 
ev’ry inch o’ me, an’ is workin’ mighty fast. When 
I git into that state I’m plum’ distracted on the ques- 
tion o’ food, though it makes me smarter an’ more 
keerful than ever on the ways to git it. I jest wanted 
to tell you, Henry, that I’m goin’ to leave this oasis 
an’ come back with a load o’ them bear steaks that 
rightfully belong to me.” 

“Have.^ou lost your mind, Sol? You’d be killed 
and scalped in an hour !” 

“I knowed you’d say that. That’s the reason I 
come around to it gradual like, an’ in a circle, but 
Henry, it ain’t no use talkin’. I’m goin’. My mind 
is clean made up. Besides, I won’t be scalped an’ I 
won’t be killed. Jest you lay down an’ afore long 
I’ll be back here with my property.” 

Henry saw that it was no use to argue. The mind 
of the shiftless one was made up, and occasionally he 
could be as resolute as Henry himself. 

“If you’re bound to go I can’t help it,” Henry said. 
“I don’t know your plan of action, and I won’t ask 
it, but if you don’t come back I’ll feel pretty bad, 
Sol.” 


153 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAH. 


‘‘But I’ll come back. That’s shore. The night has 
jest this minute turned darker, which is a sign. 
Darkness is what I need, an’ it tells me that I’m goin’ 
to git through.’' 

Henry saw his comrade depart with keen regret. 
He did not look upon him as IdSt, because his skill 
was great. But so was the danger, and he thought 
the risk was out of proportion to the purpose. But 
there was nothing more for him to say and he 
watched the shiftless one as he left the oasis, glided 
over the mud flat and disappeared in the forest to 
the west. 

Then came a long and painful wait. Twice he 
heard the warriors, through the medium of the wolf’s 
howl, calling to one another, but he did not believe the 
cries had any bearing upon the adventure of Shi f less 
Sol. Then he heard a faint chorus of yells in the 
western forest, whence his comrade had gone, and 
he knew that something had happened. He was filled 
with apprehension, but he could do nothing, except 
to lie still in the covert. 

The yell was not repeated, but he intently watched 
the edge of the forest on all sides except the west. 
After a while he saw the faint figure of a man, 
scarcely a tracery, appear in the north, and then come 
skipping like a swift shadow across the flat. His 
heart did not rise merely, but took a sudden jump 
upward. It was the shiftless one returning to their 
lair, and doubtless in triumph. 

He had not time to think much about it before 
Shi f ’less Sol was on the oasis, crouched among the 


154 


THE PATH OF DANGER 


bushes, laughing low, but in a tone that was fairly 
redolent of triumph. 

•‘T done done it, Henry!'’ he exulted. ‘T done 
done it!" 

He held up the hind quarter of a bear that had been 
cooked to a turn over a bed of coals. 

‘T haven’t tasted it yet,’’ he said, ''but jest smell it ! 
Did sech an odor ever afore tickle your nose? Did 
your mouth ever afore water so much ? Here, 
Henry, fall on!’’ 

He took out his knife, cut off a big piece and handed 
it to Henry, who began to eat eagerly. Then the 
shiftless one fell to in like fashion. 

"How did you manage it?" he asked. 

The shiftless one grinned. 

"Didn’t I tell you that the sudden darkness wuz a sign 
favorin’ me?" he said. "Paul is always tellin’ about 
them old Greeks an’ Romans not goin’ into battle till 
they had talked with the omens, mostly the insides o’ 
cows an’ sheep. I believe in signs too. Mine wuz a 
lot better, an’ it worked. I found that they hed jest 
finished roastin’ the bear on the coals, after hevin’ 
dressed him an’ cut him into four quarters. ’Pears 
that most o’ ’em hed gone deeper into the woods to 
look fur somethin’. I come close up in the bushes, 
an’ began a terrible snarlin’ an’ yelpin’ like a hull 
pack o’ wolves. The three that wuz left, the cooks, 
took torches from the fire, an’ run in after me. But 
I hed flew like lightnin’ ’roun’ to the other side, 
jumped in, grabbed up one o’ the quarters by the leg, 
an’ wuz away afore they could fairly see what 


155 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


had happened, an' who had made it happen. Then 
they set up one yell, which I guess you heard, but I 
kept on flyin' through the woods to the north, curved 
about, came over the mud flats whar no trail kin last 
a minute, an’ here I am with our bear, or ez much 
of it ez we want o’ him.” 

“You’ve done a great deed, Sol. I didn’t think you 
could go through with it, but you have, and this bear 
is mighty fine.” 

“He wuz ourn, an’ I wuz bound to hev a part o’ 
him.” 

“We’ll put the rest in our knapsacks and there 
ought to be enough for two days more. It relieves 
us of a great anxiety, because we couldn’t go without 
food, and we really needed it badly.” 

“I’m feelin’ like two men already. I wonder what 
the boys are doin’ up thar in the holler ? A-layin’ 
’roun’ on the stone floor, I s’pose, eatin’, drinkin’ cold 
water, an’ hevin’ a good time.” 

“But remember their anxiety about us.” 

“I do. They shorely must hev worried a lot, seein’ 
that we’ve been gone so long a time. Them are three 
fine fellers, Henry, Paul with all his leamin’ an’ his 
quiet ways, an’ Long Jim, with whom I like so 
pow’ful well to argy an’ who likes so pow’ful well to 
argy with me, ez good a feller ez ever breathed, an’ 
Tom Ross, who don’t talk none, givin’ all his time 
to me, but who knows such a t remen jeous lot. We’ve 
got to git back to ’em soon, Henry.” 

Henry agreed with him, and then, having eaten 
heartily they took turn and turn in sleeping. Their 


■iilE PATH OF DANGER 


clothing had dried on them, but their blankets had 
escaped a wetting entirely, and they were able to make 
themselves comfortable. 

In the morning Henry saw that the larger column 
of smoke was gone, but that the smaller remained, and 
the fact aroused his curiosity. 

‘‘What do you make of it?'’ he asked Shifless Sol. 

“I draws from it the opinion that the main band 
with the cannon hez started off into the south, but 
that part o’ the warriors hev stayed behind fur some 
purpose or other.” 

“My opinion, too. But why has the big force gone 
and the small one remained?” 

“I can’t say. It’s too much fur me.” 

Henry had an idea, but hoping that he was mis- 
taken he did not utter it just then. 

“If the big band has started south again,” he said, 
“and the absence of the column of smoke indicates it, 
then all the Indians in this part of the forest have been 
drawn off. They’ve long since lost us, and they 
wouldn’t linger here in the hope of running across us 
by chance, when the great expedition was already on 
its way.” 

“That’s sound argument, an’ so we’ll leave our 
islan’ an’ make fur the boys.” 

They picked a path across the mud flats, recrossed 
the creek and entered the deep forest, where the two 
felt as if they had come back to their true home. The 
wonderful breeze, fresh with a thousand odors of 
spring in the wilderness, was blowing. It did not 
come across mud flats, but it came through a thousand 


157 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


miles of dark green foliage, the leaves rippling like 
the waters of the sea. 

“The woods fur me,” said Shi f less Sol, speaking 
in a whisper, with instinctive caution. “I like ’em, 
even when they’re full o’ warriors lookin’ fur my 
scalp.” 

The forest here was very dense, and also was heavy 
with undergrowth which suited their purpose, as they 
would be able to approach the hollow, unseen and un- 
heard. Henry still did not like the presence of the 
smaller column of smoke, and when he reached the 
crest of their first hill he saw that it was yet rising. 

“You had a sign last night, and it was a good one,” 
he said to Shif’less Sol, “but I see one now, and I 
think it is a bad one.” 

“We’ll go on an’ find it.” 

They approached the hollow rapidly, the forest 
everywhere being extremely dense, but when they 
were within less than a mile of it both stopped short 
and looked at each other. 

“You heard it?” said Henry. 

“Yes, I heard it.” 

“It wasn’t much louder than the dropping of an 
acorn, but it was a rifle shot.” 

“O’ course it wuz a rifle shot. Neither you nor I 
could be mistook about that.” 

“And you noticed where it came from ?” 

“Straight from the place where Paul and Tom and 
Long Jim Hart are.” 

“Which may mean that their presence has been dis- 
covered and that they are besieged.” 


THE PATH OF DANGER 


'‘That’s the way I look at it.” 

“And we must make a rescue.” 

“That’s true, an’ we’ve got to be so mighty keerful 
about it that we ain’t took an’ scalped and burned by 
the savages, afore we’ve had a single chance at makin’ 
a rescue.” 

The thought in the minds of the two was the same. 
They were sure now from the absence of the larger 
smoke column that the main force had gone south, 
but that the smaller had remained to take their com- 
rades, whose presence, by some chance, they had dis- 
covered. They lay closely hidden for a while, and 
they heard the report of a second shot, followed by a 
mere shred of sound which they took to be an Indian 
yell, although they were not sure. 

“Ef the boys are besieged, an’ we think they are,” 
said the shiftless one, “they kin hold out quite a while 
even without our help. So I think, Henry, we’d better 
go an’ see whether the main camp has broke up an’ 
the cannon gone south. It won’t be so hard to find 
out that; an’ then we kin tell better what we want 
to do.” 

“You’re right, of course,” replied Henry. “We’ll 
have to leave our comrades for the time and go to 
the big camp.” 

They curved again toward the south and west, 
keeping to the thickest part of the forest and using 
every possible device to hide their trail, knowing its 
full necessity, as the day was brilliant and one, unless 
under cover, could be seen from afar. Game started 
up in their path and Henry took it as new proof that 


159 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


the main body of the Indians had gone. Deer, scared 
away by the hunters, were so plentiful that they would 
return soon after the danger for them departed. 
Nevertheless both he and the shiftless one were ap- 
prehensive of wandering warriors who might see them 
from some covert, and their progress, of necessity, 
was slow. 

They came to several grassy openings, in one of 
which the buffalo were feeding, but Henry and his 
comrade always passed around such exposed places, 
even at the cost of greatly lengthening their journey. 
At one point they heard a slight sound in the forest, 
and being uncertain whether it was made by an enemy 
they remained crouched in the thicket at least a half- 
houn Then they heard another faint report in the 
north and their keen ears told them it came from a 
point near the rocky hollow. 

‘T can’t make anything of it,” whispered Henry, 
“except that the boys are besieged as we feared. I’ve 
tried to believe that the shots were fired by Indians at 
game, but I can’t force my belief. The reports all 
come from the same place, and they mean exactly 
w^hat we wish they didn’t mean.” 

“But they mean too,” said the shiftless one, coura- 
geously, “that so long as we hear ’em the boys are 
holdin’ out. The warriors wouldn’t be shootin’ off 
their guns fur nothin’.” 

“That’s true. Now, we haven’t heard that sound 
again. It must have been made by a wildcat or a wolf 
or something of the kind. So let’s press on.” 

The great curve through the forest took them late 

i6o 


THE PATH OF DANGER 


in the afternoon to the site of the big camp. They 
were sure, long before they reached it that it had been 
abandoned. They approached very carefully through 
the dense woods, and they heard no sound whatever. 
It was true that a little smoke floated about among 
the dense leaves, but both were certain that it came 
from dying fires, abandoned many hours ago. 

“You don’t hear anything, do you?” asked Henry. 

“Not a sound.” 

“Then they’re gone.” 

Rising from the undergrowth they boldly entered 
the camp, where perhaps a thousand warriors had 
danced and sung and feasted and slept for days. Now 
the last man was gone, but they had left ample trace 
of their presence. In the wide open space lay the 
charred coals of many fires, and everywhere were 
heaps of bones of buffalo, bear, dear and wild turkey. 
Feathers and an occasional paint box were scattered 
about. 

“The feast before the fight,” said the shiftless one. 
“I’ve a good appetite myself, but it won’t hold a 
candle to that of a hungry warrior.” 

A low snarling and a pattering of many feet came 
from the surrounding forest. 

“The wolves,” said Henry. “They’ve been here to 
glean, and they ran away at our approach.” 

“An’ they’ll be back the moment we leave.” 

“Like as not, but we don’t care. Here are the wheel 
tracks, Sol, and there is the road they’ve cut through 
the forest. A blind boy could follow the trail of the 
cannon, and do you know, Sol, I’m bothered terribly.” 

i6i 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


‘'Yes, I know, Henry. We’ve got to turn back, an’ 
save the boys while them warriors, with the English 
an’ the cannon, are goin’ on into the south to attack 
our people.” 

“And time is often the most precious of all things.” 

“Su it is, Henry.” 

Henry sat down on one of the logs and cupped his 
chin in his hands. The problem presented to him 
was a terrible one, and he was thinking with all his 
powers of concentration. Should he and Shi f ’less Sol 
follow and continue his efforts to destroy the cannon, 
or return and help their comrades who might be 
besieged for a week, or even longer? But it was 
likely that Paul, Long Jim and Silent Tom, with 
all their resources of skill and courage, would hold 
out. In the face of a defence such as they could 
make it would be almost impossible to force the cleft 
in the cliff, and they had some food and of course 
unlimited water. 

They could be left to themselves, while Shif’less 
Sol and he hurried on the trail of the Indian army and 
made their great attempt. Shif’less Sol watched him, 
as he sat, his chin sunk in his hand, the deep eyes very 
thoughtful. Presently both looked at the column of 
smoke not more than a mile away that marked the 
presence of the smaller camp, the one that had re- 
mained and which was undoubtedly conducting the 
siege. As they looked they heard once more the faint 
report of a shot, or its echo coming down the wind. 
Henry stood up, and there was no longer a look of 
doubt in his eyes.” 


THE PATH OF DANGER 


**Sol/’ he said, “those three have been with us in 
a thousand dangers, haven’t they?” 

“Nigher ten thousand, Henry.” 

“And they never left us to look out for ourselves ?” 

“Never, Henry.” 

“And they never would do it, either.” r 

“Never. Warriors, an’ fires, an’ floods, an’ earth- 
quakes all together couldn’t make ’em do it.” 

“Nor can they make us. We’ve got to go back and 
rescue our comrades, Sol, and then we’ll try to over- 
take their army and destroy the cannon.” 

“I thought you’d decide that way, Henry. No, I 
knowed you’d do it.” 

“Now, we’ve got to bear back toward the left, and 
then approach the cliff.” 

“An’ on our way find out jest what the warriors 
attackin’ it are up to.” 

They began a new trail, and with the utmost exer- 
cise of skill and caution undertook to reach their 
comrades. 


CHAPTER IX 


THE KEEPERS OF THE CLEFT 

H enry and the shiftless one had not gone 
far, before they were deeply grateful that 
the undergrowth was so dense. They dis- 
tinctly heard three shots and twice the war whoop. 
A small gully, so thickly covered with vines and 
bushes, that it was almost like a subterranean chan- 
nel, allowed them to go much nearer. There lying 
hidden until twilight, they distinctly heard scat- 
tered firing, war whoops and then a long piercing 
shout which had in it the quality of the white man’s 
voice. Shi f ’less Sol laughed low, but with intense 
pleasure. 

“I can’t hear his words,” he said, “but I’d know 
that yell in a million. It’s Long Jim’s ez shore ez 
shootin’. It’s so pow’ful loud ’cause it’s drawed up 
from a long distance, an’ when it does come free it 
comes a-poppin’. It’s Jim tellin’ them warriors what 
he thinks of ’em. He’s tellin’ ’em what scalawags 
they are, an’ how their fathers an’ mothers an’ grand- 
fathers an’ grandmothers afore ’em wuz ez bad or 
wuss. He’s tellin’ ’em they’re squaws painted up to 

164 


THE KEEPERS OF THE CLEFT 


look like men, an' ez he talks Shawnee an' Miami 
they’re hoppin' mad." 

Henry even could not refrain from laughing. It 
was Long Jim's voice beyond a doubt, and his note of 
triumph showed that he and his comrades were safe — 
so far. Evidently he was in great fettle. His words 
shot forth in a stream and Henry knew that the sav- 
ages were writhing in anger at his taunts. The re- 
port of a rifle came suddenly and echoed through the 
darkening forest. When the last echo died there was 
a moment of silence, and then to their welcome ears 
came the voice of Long Jim again, pouring forth a 
stream of taunt and invective with undiminished speed 
and power. 

“Ain't he the great one?" whispered Shif'less Sol, 
admiringly. “Didn't I tell you that voice o' his was 
so strong 'cause it come up so fur. An' did you ever 
hear him do better? Thar ain't a word in the hull 
Shawnee an' Miami languages that he hasn't used on 
'em an' a sprinkling o' Wyandot an' Delaware too. 
They're so mad I kin see 'em bitin' their lips an’ t'arin’ 
at thar scalp locks. Good old Jim, give it to 'em!" 

The voice went on a quarter of an hour with amaz- 
ing force and speed. Then it ceased abruptly and 
silence and darkness together came over the woods. 
Henry and his comrade debated as they lay in the little 
gully. Should they try to get in to their comrades? 
Or should they try to get their comrades out ? Either 
would be a most difficult task, but as the night deep- 
ened, and they talked they came to a decision. 

“It has to be me," said Henry. 

165 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


‘T s’pose so,” said Sol, regretfully. “You're the 
likeliest hand at it, but you always take the most dan- 
gerous part. It’s nothin’ fur me to lay ’roun’ here in 
the night till you fellers come.” 

Henry’s smile was invisible in the dusk. 

“Of course, Sol,” he said, “you run no risk. I read 
once in a book, that our teacher had at Wareville, 
about an outdoor amusement they called a lawn fes- 
tival. That’s what you’re going to have, a lawn 
festival. While I’m gone you’ll walk about here and 
pick flowers for bouquets. If any savage warrior 
wanting your scalp should come along he’d change 
his mind at once, and help you make your bou- 
quet.” 

“Stop your foolishness, Henry. You know it ain’t 
no hard job fur me to hang ’bout in the woods an’ keep 
out o’ danger.” 

“Yes, but you may have a lot to do when you hear 
the signals. Keep as close as you reasonably can, Sol, 
and if we come out and give the howl of the wolf you 
answer, according to our custom, and we’ll know 
which way to run.” 

“All right, Henry. I won’t be sleepin’. Thar they 
are shootin’ ag’in, but not doin’ any yellin’. So they 
haven’t hit anythin’. Good-bye, an’ rec’lect that I’ll 
be waitin’ here.” 

Strong hands clasped in the darkness and Henry 
slipped away on his perilous mission, reaching without 
event the valley that the cliff overlooked. Then he 
used all the caution and skill that the superman of 
the forest possessed, creeping closer and closer and 


THE KEEPERS OF THE CLEFT 


ever closer, until he could see, despite the darkness, 
the painted forms of Miami and Shawnee warriors 
in the thickets, all looking up at the point where the 
crevice in the cliff was practically hidden by the foli- 
age. It was an average night, quiet and dark up there, 
but Henry knew that three pairs of good eyes in the 
coign of the crevice were watching everything that 
went on below. 

He crouched lower and lower, until he blended with 
earth and thicket and still watched. He saw one of 
the warriors raise his rifle and fire at the hidden mark. 
Then he heard two impacts of the bullet, first as it 
struck upon stone, and then as glancing, it fell among 
the leaves. Out of the mouth of the fissure came a 
great booming voice, speaking Shawnee and ridiculing 
their lack of skill with the rifle. 

The voice said that if they did not improve in their 
firing he would come outside, sit in the best moonlight 
he c^uld find, and let them take turns at him as a 
target. He would even mark off spots on his chest 
and offer prizes to any one who might hit them, but 
he knew very well that none of them would ever suc- 
ceed. If he had a six-year-old boy who should do as 
badly as they were doing he would take him away and 
whip him with willow switches. 

Henry, lying close in his covert, laughed inwardly. 
Long Jim was in good form. Upon occasion he had 
a wonderful command of language, and the present 
occasion was better than any other that Henry could 
remember. Events, chief of which was a successful 
defense, had inspired in him a wonderful flow of lan- 

167 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAII. 


guage. His great sonorous voice again pealed out 
wrath, defiance and contempt. 

‘‘Oh, you dogs! sons uv dogs! an' grandsons uv 
dogs!" he shouted. “Why don't you come an' take 
us? Here we are, only a few, jest settin' an' waitin' 
fur you ! An' thar are twenty or more uv you ! Oh, 
you Shawnees an' Miamis, an' Wyandots, why are 
you waitin' down thar when jest a few uv us are up 
here, ready to give you welcome ? I don't think you're 
re’lly warriors. You're jest old squaws painted up 
to look like 'em, an' the real fightin' men uv your tribe 
are at home, asleep in the lodges, afraid to face the 
bullets uv the white men, while they send thar old 
women here to make a noise!" 

Henry laughed again that soundless laugh behind 
his teeth. He read everything as plainly as if it had 
been written in a book before him. Nobody in the 
stony hollow had been hurt, else Long Jim's voice 
would not have been so exultant. They were confi- 
dent, too, that they could hold the narrow opening 
indefinitely, else he would not have sent forth such 
intolerable taunts. He made his position a little 
easier and again laughed deep in his throat and with 
unction. He had never known Long Jim to be in finer 
form. Shi f 'less Sol was the acknowledged orator of 
the five, but tonight the cloak of inspiration was 
spread over the shoulders of Long Jim Hart. 

“Why don't you come into our little house?" he 
shouted. “It's a nice place, a warm place, an' the rain 
can't git at you here. Won't you walk into our parlor, 
ez the spider said to the fly ! It's a good place, better 


THE KEEPERS OF THE CLEFT 


than any wigwam you've got, nice an' warm, with a. 
roof that the rain can't get through, an' plenty of cool 
runnin' water! An' ef you want our scalps you'd 
never find grander heads uv ha'r. They're the finest 
an' longest an' thickest that ever grew on the head uv 
man. They're jest waitin' to be took. Any warrior 
who took one uv 'em would be made a chief right 
away. Why don't you come on an' git 'em? It can't 
be that you're afraid, you Shawnees and Miamis an' 
Delawares an' Wyandots. Here's our gyarden, jest 
waitin' fur you, the door open an' full uv good things. 
Why don't you come on? Ef I had a dog an' told 
him to run after a b'ar cub an' he wouldn't run I'd kill 
him fur a coward 1" 

Henry heard a roar of rage from the thickets, and 
once more he laughed behind his teeth. Long Jim 
Hart was still in his grandest form, and although many 
Indian chiefs were great orators, masters of taunt and 
satire. Long Jim, inspired that night, was the equal of 
their best. The gift of tongues had come to him. 

‘T heard a noise down thar in the holler!" he 
shouted. ‘‘Wuz it made by warriors, men? No! it 
wuz dogs barkin' an' crows cawin' an' wolves whinin' 
an' rabbits squeakin'. Sech ez them would never come 
up ag'in a white man's rifle. I hear the wind blowin' 
too, but it don't bring me no sound 'cept that uv dogs 
barkin', low-down curs that would run away from a 
chipmunk with their tails atween their legs. I'm git- 
tin' mighty tired now uv waitin' fur them that called 
theirselves warriors, but are nothin' but old squaws 
in war paint. Ef I don't hear from ’em ag'in soon 

169 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


ril go to sleep an’ leave here my little boy, ten years 
old, to meet ’em with a switch ez they come up.” 

There was another roar of rage from the brush, and 
Henry said under his breath : 

‘‘Well done. Long Jim! Well done, twice and 
again I” 

Long Jim now softened his voice and began to beg. 

“Why don’t you come up here, you red Indian 
fellers?” he cried. “All my friends, knowin’ thar is 
no danger, hev gone to sleep, leavin’ me to welcome 
the guests, when they stan’ afore our door. I’m 
waitin’! I’ve been waitin’ a long time, an’ ef you 
don’t come soon I’ll hev to go to sleep leavin’ you 
outside our door.” 

The Indians were always susceptible to oratory and 
now another shout of rage came from them. The 
taunts of Long Jim were too much, and a dozen dusky 
forms sprang from the undergrowth and rushed up 
the slope. There was a puff of smoke from the cleft 
in the cliff and the foremost warrior fell, shot squarely 
through the forehead. A second puff and a second 
warrior was gone to a land where the hunting is al- 
ways good. Before such accurate shooting with only 
the moonlight to aid, the other warriors shrank back 
appalled, and quickly hid themselves in the under- 
growth. 

“Good boys! Good boys!” exclaimed Henry under 
his breath. “Splendid shooting! They’re bold war- 
riors who will now face the Keepers of the Pass.” 

All the warriors save the two who had been slain 
were hidden in the dense thicket or behind stony out- 


170 


THE KEEPERS OF THE CLEFT 


croppings, and again the tremendous voice of Long 
Jim floated on waves of air above them. 

'‘Why don’t you keep cornin’?” he shouted. 'T 
invited you to come an’ you started, but you’ve 
stopped ! Everythin’ is waitin’ fur you, all the gaudy 
Roman couches that my friend Paul has told me 
about, an’ the gushin’ fountains, an’ the wreaths uv 
rose leaves to wrap aroun’ your necks, an’ the roses 
droppin’ from the ceilin’ on the table loaded with 
ven’son, an’ turkey, an’ wild pigeons, an’ rabbits an’ 
more other kinds uv game than I kin tell you about 
in a night. Why don’t you come on an’ take the big 
places you’re invited to at our banquet, you miser’ble, 
low-down, sneakin’, wrinkled old squaws !” 

A wild yell of rage came once more from the bushes, 
and again Henry laughed deep in his throat. He knew 
how the taunt stung the Indians, and Long Jim’s elo- 
quence, the dam now having been taken down, flooded 
on. 

"Here, you red-skinned barbarians!” he shouted. 
"Come into our house an’ we’ll teach you how to live I 
The tables are all set an’ the couches are beside ’em. 
The hummin’ birds’ tongues are done to a turn an’ 
the best singers an’ dancers are all on hand to enter- 
tain you I” 

Henry knew that Jim’s patter had come from Paul’s 
stories of the old Romans, and now he was applying 
it with gusto to the wild scene lost in the vast green 
wilderness. But he was sure that the Indians would 
not return to a headlong charge. The little fortress 
in stone was practically impregnable to frontal attack 


171 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


and they would resort instead to cunning and subter- 
fuge. 

‘‘Ain’t you cornin’!” thundered the voice of Long 
Jim. “I hev done give you an invite to the banquet 
an' you stop an’ hang ’roun’ thar in the woods, whar 
I can’t see you. Five minutes more an’ the invites 
are all withdrawed. Then the eatin’ an’ the singin’ 
an’ the playin’ will all go on without you, an’ ef you 
are found hangin’ ’roun’ our door I’ll hev the dogs 
to chase you away.” 

No answer came from the woods, but Henry knew 
how the hearts of the warriors were consumed with 
rage. Those whom they wished to take were so near 
and so few and yet they held an almost invincible 
fortress. Rage stabbed at the Indian heart. 

Long Jim continued his taunts for some time, 
speaking both Shawnee and Miami, and also a little 
Wyandot and Delaware. His vocabulary acquired a 
sudden richness and depth. He called them names that 
implied every manner of cowardice and meanness. 
Their ancestors had been buzzards feeding on offal, 
they themselves were mangy, crippled and deformed, 
and, when the few that were left alive by the white 
men returned home, they would be set to work cooking, 
and caring for the lodges. When they died they would 
return to the base forms of their ancestors. They 
would be snakes and toads and turtles, and the animals 
that walked on four legs and looked straight before 
them would laugh at them whenever they saw them. 

Long Jim had never before been so eloquent, and 
never before had his voice been so unctuous. He 


172 


THE KEEPERS OF THE CLEFT 


thundered forth challenges and insults after the Indian 
fashion. He told them that he and his comrades 
found it a poor amusement to fight with such men, 
but when they finished with their eating and drinking 
and sleeping they might go north to the Indian villages 
and whip the warriors in the presence of their squaws 
with willow switches. Meanwhile they intended to 
sleep and rest, but if any of the old women out there 
came into their cavern and annoyed their slumbers he 
would chase every one of them out with a switch. 

Henry laughed long in his throat. Long Jim was 
proving himself a forest warrior of the first quality. 
It was the way of the woods, and these taunts stung 
the red men to the quick. He knew that they were 
lying in the bushes, their hearts beating heavily with 
anger and the hot breath burning their lips. Two, 
unable to restrain themselves, fired, but their bullets 
merely rebounded from the stone walls of the grotto, 
and the defenders did not deign to answer. 

Then came a long period of silence and Henry made 
himself as small and obscure as possible, lest the war- 
riors, moving about, might see him. But, fortunately 
the night had now turned quite dark, and where eyes 
might fail his acute sense of hearing would reveal the 
approach of any enemy. But as he lay close he again 
laughed inwardly more than once. The three were 
certainly holding the grotto in most gallant fashion, 
and Long Jim was fast becoming one of the greatest 
orators of the woods. He did not believe that the 
Indians could carry the fortress, but to get them out 
and away was another and much harder problem. 


173 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


Absolute silence save for the whispering of a light 
wind through the leaves came over the forest. The 
night, to Henry’s great joy, grew much darker. No 
sound came from the room in the cliff, nor did any 
come from the Indians in the thickets. Apparently 
the whole place was a wilderness, as lone and desolate 
as it was when it first emerged from the sea. No- 
where was the sign of a human being visible, but 
Henry knew that vigilant eyes watched at the mouth 
of the stone cleft and that eyes equally as keen peered 
continually from the thickets. 

But he meant to join his comrades before dawn. 
He did not know yet just how he would do it, but such 
was his confidence that he felt quite sure he would be 
with his comrades before the rising of the sun. 

Luckily the forest and thickets in the valley were 
extremely dense, enabling him to lie within a couple 
of hundred yards of the besieging force, and not fear 
detection. His figure in its green clothing blended 
perfectly with the green bushes. 

The night turned colder, and after a while a chilly 
drizzle began to fall. Henry, hardened to all kinds 
of weather, and intent upon his task, took no note of 
it, except to be glad that it had come, because it would 
further his aims. Night and storm might enable him 
to slip past the besiegers and join his friends. 

But the Indians, who do not despise comfort when 
there is no danger in it, gathered in a cup in the side 
of the hill, beyond rifle shot from the hollow, and 
built a fire. Henry, from his lair in the bushes, saw 
them distinctly, about thirty warriors, mostly of the 


174 


THE KEEPERS OF THE CLEFT 


Shawnee tribe, with their head chief, Red Eagle him- 
self, present as a leader, and the two renegades Brax- 
ton Wyatt and Blackstaffe. Henry noted Blackstaffe 
and Wyatt closely and his heart thrilled with anger 
that they should turn against their own people and 
use the tomahawk and scalping knife, and even stand 
beside the stake to witness their slow death by the 
torture of fire. 

Blackstaffe* was one of the worst of all the rene- 
gades, second only to Girty in cruelty and cunning, 
a scourge of the border destined to meet his fate from 
an avenging bullet years later, just after the Fallen 
Timbers, where Wayne crushed the allied tribes. Now 
he was a young man, tall, heavily built and tanned 
almost as dark as an Indian by weather. He and 
Braxton Wyatt had become close friends, and both 
stood high in the councils of the Indians. Henry saw 
them clearly now, outlined against the firelight, en- 
gaged in close talk with the middle-aged Shawnee 
chief, Red Eagle. 

Henry had much more respect for Red Eagle than 
for the renegades. The Indian might be cruel, he 
might delight in the terrible sufferings he inflicted 
upon a captured enemy, but it was the immemorial 
custom of his race and, in fighting the white people, 
he was fighting those who would some day, far dis- 
tant though it might be, turn the great hunting 
grounds into farms. Henry, so much a son of the 
wild himself, could understand him, but for the rene- 

* The fate of Blackstaffe is told in the author’s novel, “ The Wil- 
derness Road.” 


175 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


:gades he had no sympathy whatever. In all lands and 
in all the history of the world renegades have been 
hated and detested. 

He judged by the fact that the head chief of the 
Shawnees and the two renegades had remained that 
they considered the taking of the little fort in the cliff 
of great importance. Doubtless they imagined that 
all of the five were now inside, and it would rejoice 
the heart of Shawnee and Miami alike if they could 
slay them all, or better still, take them alive, and put 
them to the torture. There were some old defeats 
that yet galled and stung, and for which revenge 
would be sweet. Henry recalled these things and he 
knew that the siege would be close and bitter. 

The Indians, feeling secure from any enemy, pres- 
ently sat in a circle about the fire, drawing their 
blankets over their shoulders to protect themselves 
from the drizzling rain. Henry surmised that several 
warriors were on watch near the mouth of the cave, 
and that those in the main body would take their ease 
before the coals. His surmise proved to be correct, 
as they appeared to relax and to be talking freely. 
They also took venison from deerskin pouches and 
ate. It reminded Henry that he was hungry and he 
too took out and ate a portion of Shiftless Sol’s stolen 
bear steak that he had saved. 

He did not move for another hour. Meanwhile the 
wind rose, driving the drizzling rain like sleet, and 
moaning down the gorge. Save for the Indians 
crouched around the fire no more desolate scene might 
have been witnessed on the continent. The old, pri- 

176 


THE KEEPERS OF THE CLEFT 


meval world had come back, and forgotten monsters 
ranged the woods while man, weaponless save for his 
club, crouched in his cave and listened with terror to 
the snarls of the great animals, so much more powerful 
than himself. 

It seemed to him then, when the influence of the 
wilderness and its immensity and desolation were so 
strong, that he might have lived in some such time 
himself, ages and ages ago. It might have been the 
stories of Paul or it might have been some dim herit- 
age from a dimmer past that made him, as he lay 
there under the soaking bushes, call up visions of the 
great beasts that once stalked the earth, the mam- 
moth and the mastodon, the cave bear, the saber- 
toothed tiger, gigantic leopards and hyenas, and back 
of them the terrific stegosaurus in his armor-like hide 
and all his awful kin. Henry was glad that he had 
not lived in such a time. 

The fire, even though it was that of men who would 
gladly scalp him and torture him to death, brought 
back the present and the living and throbbing realities 
of life. With his rifle he was more than a match for 
any beast that roamed the North American wilderness, 
and in cunning and craft he could meet the savages 
at their own game. 

Apparently the Indians around the fire had now 
ceased to talk. They sat in a circle, bent a little for- 
ward, and some had drawn their blankets over their 
heads. The fire was a great mass of coals and Henry 
knew that it threw out an abundant heat. He envied 
them a little. He was just beginning to feel the effects 


177 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


of the cold rain, but their bodies glowed with warmth. 

Meantime the roaring of the wind in the valley was 
growing and in the confined space there were many 
tones in its voice, now a shriek, and now a howl. In 
spite of himself the ancient monsters of the primeval 
world came back again and these were the sounds they 
uttered in their rage. He shuddered a little, then 
shook himself and by the mere power of will forced 
the return of the present. 

He reckoned that the time had come for him to 
make his attempt. Doubtless the sentinels were on 
the slope near the mouth of the cleft, but they must 
be chilled to some extent by the cold rain, and, after 
such a long silence, would naturally relax their vig- 
ilance. He had protected his weapons from the rain 
with his buckskin hunting shirt, and he flexed his arms 
and muscles to see that they had not grown stiff from 
such a long stay in one position. 

He began to creep through the bushes to the bottom 
of the valley and then up the slope toward the little 
fortress, and in the task he called into play all his 
natural and acquired powers. An eye looking down 
would have taken him for a large animal stalking his 
prey with infinite cunning and cleverness. The bushes 
scarcely moved as he passed, and he made no sound 
but the faintest sliding motion, audible only four or 
five feet away. 

The strain upon his body was very great. He did 
not really crawl, but edged himself forward with a 
series of muscular efforts. It was painfully slow, but 
it was necessary, because the Indian ears were acute, 

178 


THE KEEPERS OF THE CLEFT 

and the rustling of a bush or the breaking of a twig 
would draw their instant attention. 

As he drew himself slowly on, like a great serpent, 
he watched for the Indian sentinels, and at last he 
saw one, a Shawnee warrior crouched in the lee of a 
huge tree trunk to shelter himself from the driving 
rain, but always looking toward the mouth of the 
hollow in the cliff. 

Henry, inch by inch, bore away and curved about 
him. Twice he thought the sentinel had heard some- 
thing unusual, but in each case he lay flat and silent, 
while the wind continued to shriek down the valley, 
driving the chill rain before it. Each time the sus- 
picions of the watcher passed and Henry moved slowly 
on, infinite patience allied with infinite skill. If there 
was anything in heredity and reincarnation he was 
the greatest tracker and hunter in that old primeval 
world, where such skill ranked first among human 
qualities. As always with him, his will and courage 
rose with the danger. Crouched in the bush fifteen 
feet away he looked at the warrior, a powerful fellow, 
brawny in the chest but thin in the legs, as was usual 
among them. The Indian’s eyes swept continuously 
in a half circle, but they did not see the great figure 
lying so near, and holding his life on the touch of a 
trigger. 

Henry laughed deep in his throat. All the wild 
blood in him was alive and leaping. He even felt a 
certain exultation in the situation, one that would have 
appalled an ordinary scout and stalker, but which drew 
from him only supreme courage and utmost mastery 


179 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


in woodcraft. He felt within him the supreme cer- 
tainty that he would succeed, and bending away from 
the sentinel he resumed that slow, sliding motion. 

He was sure that he would find on his right another 
warrior on watch, and, as he was moving in that 
direction, he looked closely. He saw him presently, 
a tall fellow, standing erect among some bushes, his 
rifle in the crook of his arm. He seemed discontented 
with his situation — even the savage can get too much 
of cold and wet — and presently he moved a little 
further to the right, as if he would seek some sort of 
shelter from the rain. Then Henry crept straight 
forward toward the fortress of his friends, a scant 
fifty yards away. 

But he did not assume that he had yet succeeded. 
He knew how thoroughly the Indians kept watch upon 
a foe, whom they expected to take, and there must be 
other sentinels, or at least one, and bearing that fact 
in mind his progress became still slower. He merely 
went forward inch by inch, and he was so careful that 
the bushes above him did not shake. All the while 
his eyes roved about in search of that lone last sentinel 
whom he was sure the Indians had posted near the 
entrance, in order to check any attempt at an es- 
cape. 

Although it was very dark his eyes had grown used 
to it and he could see some distance. Yet his range 
of vision was not broken by the figure of any warrior, 
and he began to wonder. Could the vigilance of the 
savages have relaxed? Was it possible that they were 
keeping no guard near the entrance? While he 


i8o 


THE KEEPERS OF THE CLEFT 


was wondering he crept directly upon the sentinel. 

He was a huge savage, inured to cold and wet and 
he had lain almost flat in the grass. Hearing a slight 
sound scarce a yard away he turned and the eyes of 
red forest runner and white forest runner looked into 
one another. Henry was the first to recover from his 
surprise and the single second of time was worth dia- 
monds and rubies to him. Dropping his rifle he 
reached out both powerful hands and seized the 
warrior. The loud cry of alarm that had started from 
the chest never got past the barrier of those fingers, 
and the compressing grasp was so deadly that the 
Indian’s hands did not reach for tomahawk or knife. 
Instead they flew up instinctively and tried to tear 
away those fingers of iron. But the man of old might 
as well have tried to escape from the jaws of the saber- 
toothed tiger. 

The great forest runner was exerting all his immense 
strength, and he was nerved, too, by the imminent 
danger to his friends and himself. No slightest sound 
must escape from the red throat. A single cry would 
reach the warriors below, and then the whole yelling 
pack would be upon him. The warrior’s hands 
grasped his wrists and pulled at them frantically. He 
was a powerful savage with muscles like knotted ropes, 
but there was no man in all the wilderness who could 
break that grasp. His breath came fitfully, his face 
became swollen and then Henry, turning him over on 
his back, took his fingers away. 

The warrior was not dead, but he would revive 
slowly and painfully and for days there would be ten 

i8i 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


red and sore spots on his throat, where the fingers had 
sunk in. An ordinary scout would have thrust his 
knife at once into the heart of the warrior. It would 
have been the safest way, but Henry could not do it. 
He saw the great chest of the savage trembling as the 
breath sought a way to his lungs. He took his rifle, 
powder horn, bullet pouch, tomahawk and knife, and, 
bending low in the foliage, ran swiftly for the mouth 
of the cave. 

He was quite confident that the fallen warrior was 
the last sentinel, and as he approached the entrance 
he called again and again in a loud whisper : 

‘‘Don’t fire ! Don’t fire ! It’s me, Henry !” 

At last came the whisper in reply: 

“All right, Henry, we’re waitin’.” 

He recognized the voice of Silent Tom, and the 
next instant he was inside, his hand and that of Tom 
Ross meeting in a powerful grasp, while Paul and 
Long Jim, aroused from sleep, expressed their delight 
in low words and strong handshakes. 

“How in thunder did you git in, Henry?” asked 
Long Jim. 

“I was brought in a sedan chair by four strong 
Indians, Wyatt walking on one side and Blackstaffe 
on the other as an escort. I told them that of all 
places in the world this was the one to which I wished 
most to come, and they put me down at the door, their 
modesty compelling them to withdraw.” 

“It’s mighty good to see you again, Henry, no 
matter how you got here,” said Paul. “Where is 
Sol?” 


182 


THE KEEPERS OF THE CLEFT 


“Safe outside, just as Pm safe inside. I think I’ll 
let him know that I’ve been successful.” 

Standing just within the entrance he emitted the 
long-drawn howl of the wolf, piercing and carrying 
singularly far. They waited a moment or two in 
breathless silence, and then on the edge of the shriek- 
ing wind came a similar reply, fierce, long and snarl- 
ing. Henry gave the howl again and as before came 
the answer in like fashion. It was the wilderness 
signal, made complete. 

“It’s Sol,” Henry said. “I know now that he’s 
there, and he knows that I’m here. The first part of 
our task is done.” 

A yell of rage and disappointment came from the 
valley below. It was so fierce that the air seemed to 
pulse with angry waves. 

“What’s the matter down there, I wonder,” ex- 
claimed Paul. 

“Before I could get in here,” replied Henry, “I had 
to choke the breath out of one of their best warriors. 
I fancy he has just come to and has told the others.” 

Then the war cry died away and there was nothing 
but the shriek of the wind that drove drops of rain 
into the opening. 

“How long have you been besieged here?” asked 
Henry. 

“Today and tonight,” replied Paul. “Either they 
struck our trail or some one of them may have been 
in this grotto once. At any rate a band started up here 
and we were compfiled to fire into ’em. That’s our 
history, since. What have you seen?” 

183 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAH. 


‘‘The main army has gone south with the cannon, 
but Red Eagle, Braxton Wyatt and Blackstaffe are 
here. If they can't rush us they'll at least hold us 
three or four days, or try mighty hard. But I want a 
drink of water I hear trickling over there. I'm thirsty 
from all the crawling and creeping I've done." 

He knelt and drank deep at the pure little stream. 

“Now, Henry," said Silent Tom, “sence you've come 
I reckon you're mighty tired. You've been trampin’ 
about in the woods a heap. So jest stretch out an’ go 
to sleep while we watch.” 

“I don’t mind if I do,” replied Henry, who at last 
was beginning to feel the effects of his immense exer- 
tions. “How are you fellows fixed for food ?” 

“This ain't no banquet hall an' we ain't settin’ din- 
ners fur kings,” replied Long Jim, “but we've got 
enough to last a good while. Afore they found out 
we wuz here Tom went out one night an’ killed a deer 
an' brought him in. While he wmz gone I took the 
trouble to gather some wood, which is in the back part 
uv the place, but 'cause o’ smoke an' sech we ain’t 
lighted any fire, an' no part of the deer hez been 
cooked. 

“I brought a big piece of bear myself,” said Henry, 
unhooking it from his back, and it was cooked by an 
Indian, the best cook in all these woods except you, 
Jim. He wasn't willing for rr e to take it, but here 
it is.” 

Long Jim deposited it carefudy in a comer and 
covered it with leaves. 

“Ef people always brought somethin' when they 


THE KEEPERS OF THE CLEFT 


come visitinV he said, ‘^they’d shorely be welcome ez 
you are, Henry.’' 

But before he lay down Henry listened a while at 
the fortress mouth, and the others listened with him. 
If they heard shots it would indicate that the Indians 
in some manner had caught sight of Shif less Sol and 
were pursuing him. But no sound came out of the 
vast dark void, save the shriek of the wind and the 
beat of the rain. Henry had no doubt that the warrior 
whom he had choked nearly to death was now with his 
comrades, raging for vengeance, and yet he had been 
spared when few in like case would have shown him 
mercy. 

The wilderness, black, cold and soaking, looked 
unutterably gloomy, but he felt no worry about those 
whom he had left behind. The shiftless one like him- 
self was a true son of the wilderness and he would be 
as clever as a fox in finding a warm, dry hole. They 
had forged the first link in their intended chain, and 
Henry felt the glow of success. 

‘T think I’ll go to sleep now," he said. ‘Tm pretty 
well soaked with the rain, but I managed to keep my 
blanket dry. If the warriors attack, Jim, wake me 
up in time to put on my clothes. I wouldn't like to go 
into a battle without 'em. 

He removed his wet buckskins and spread them out 
on the stone floor to dry. Then he wrapped himself in 
his blanket, raked up some of the dry leaves as a 
couch, and lay down, feeling a double glow, that of 
warmth and that of success. What a glorious place it 
was ! All things are measured by contrast After the 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAH. 


black and cold wilderness, swarming- with dangers, 
this was the other extreme. The Caesar in his palace 
hall and the Persian under his vaulted dome could not 
feel so much comfort, nor yet so much luxury, as 
Henry in this snug and warm room in the stone with 
his brave and faithful friends around him. 

Truly it was a noble place! He heard the trickle 
of the little stream, like a jet of water flowing over 
marble, and into a marble fountain. Above him was 
a stone ceiling, carved by the ages, and beneath him 
was a stone floor made by the same master hand. The 
leaves were very soft to one so thoroughly hardened 
of body as he, and the blanket was warm. The roar- 
ing of the wind outside was turned to music here, and 
it mingled pleasantly with the trickle of the little 
stream. 

While the forest runner was capable of tremendous 
and long exertions, he also had acquired the power of 
complete relaxation when the time came. Now all of 
Henry’s nerves were quiet, a deep peace came over 
him quickly, and he slept. 


CHAPTER X 


BESIEGED 

H enry did not awake the next day after his 
usual fashion, that is with all his faculties and 
senses alert, for the strain on him had been 
so great that the process required a minute or two. 
Then he looked around the little fortress which so 
aptly could be called a hole in the wall. Many dried 
leaves had been brought in and placed in five heaps, 
the fifth for Shif’less Sol when he should come. The 
dressed deer, rolled in leaves, lay at the far end. The 
little stream was trickling away, singing its eternal 
pleasant song, and a bright shaft of sunlight, entering, 
illuminated one part of the cave but left the other in 
cool dusk. 

Silent Tom sat by the side of the door watching, 
his rifle on his knees. Nothing that moved in the 
foliage in front of them could escape his eyes. Long 
Jim was slicing the cooked venison with his hunting 
knife, and Paul, sitting on his own particular collection 
of leaves with his back against the wall, was polishing 
his hatchet. It looked more like a friendly group of 
hunters than a band fighting to escape death by tor- 

187 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


ture. And despite the real fact the sense of comfort 
was strong. 

Henry knew by the sunlight that the rain had passed 
and that a warm clear day was at hand. He inferred, 
too, that nothing had happened while he slept, and 
rising he drank at the stream, after which he bathed 
his face, and resumed his buckskin clothing which had 
dried. 

"‘Good sleep,'’ said Paul. 

“Fine,” said Henry. 

“You showed great judgment in choosing your inn.” 

“I knew that I would find here friends, a bed, water, 
food and a roof.” 

“Everything, in fact, except fire.” 

“Which we can do without for a while.” 

“But I would say that the special pride of the inn 
is the roof. Certainly no rain seems to have got 
through it last night.” 

“It’s fifteen or twenty feet thick, and you will notice 
that the ceiling has been sculptured by a great artist.” 

Henry had seen it before, but he observed it more 
closely now, with all its molded ridges and convolu- 
tions. 

“Nature does work well, sometimes,” he said. 

Long Jim handed him strips of venison. 

“Eat your breakfast,” he said. “I’m sorry, Mr. 
Visitor, that I kin offer you only one thing to eat, but 
as you came late an’ we haven’t much chance to git 
anythin’ else you’ll hev to put up with it. But thar’s 
plenty uv water. You kin drink all day long, ef you 
like.” 


i88 


BESIEGED 


Henry accepted the venison, ate hf^artily, drank 
again, and went to the door where Silent Tom was 
watching. 

‘Xook through the little crack thar,” said Torn, '*an’ 
you kin see everythin’ that’s to be seen without bein’ 
seen.” 

Henry took a long and comprehensive look. He 
saw the thick foliage down the slope, and the equal!}’ 
thick foliage on the other side. It looked beautiful 
in its deep green, still heavy with the rain drops of 
the night before, despite a brilliant sun that was 
rising. The wind had died down to a gentle murmur. 

“Anything stirring, Tooi?” he asked. 

“Nothin’ fur some time. ’Bout an hour ago I 
caught the shine o’ a red blanket ’mong them trees 
over thar, four hundred yards or so from us an’ too 
fur fur a shot.” 

“Do you think they’ll try to rush us ?” 

Silent Tom shook his head. 

“Not ’less they’re pushed,” he replied. “ ’Pears to 
me they’ll settle down to a long siege. They know 
we’re after thar cannon an’ they mean to see that we 
don’t git near ’em. Ef they could keep us holed up 
here fur two or three weeks they’d willin’ enough 
spare twenty warriors or so fur the job.” 

“But why are such important men as Red Eagle 
and Blackstaffe left here?” 

“Mebbe, they thought they’d git at us an’ finish us 
in a day or two. Look at that, Henry. What do you 
make it out to be?” 

“It’s a spot of white in the foliage, and it’s coming 
189 


TllE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


nearer They want to talk with us. Somebody has 
hoisied a piece of old cloth on a gun barrel and is 
approaching. It’s Braxton Wyatt.” 

“Yes, I rec him, an’ he’s within range now. May 
I .‘^end a bullet squar’ly through his head, Henry?” 

“No, no! You mustn’t do that! We’ll observe all 
the rules of war, whether they do or not. There’s 
Blackstaffe behind Wyatt, and two more Indians. 
Let them come within a hundred yards, Tom, then 
hail ’em. Paul, you do the talking, but say I’m not 
here.” 

The two renegades and the two Indians came on 
with confidence, until they were halted by Tom’s loud 
command. 

The four stopped and Wyatt called out: 

“We want to talk with you and it’s better for you 
to do it.” 

“It may or may not be better for us,” said Paul. 
“We’re the best judges of that. But what do you 
want ?” 

“You know me, Paul Cotter,” said Wyatt, who 
recognized the voice, “and you know I keep my word. 
Now, we have you fellows shut up there. All we’ve 
got to do is to wait until your food gives out, which’ll 
be very soon, and then you’ll drop into our hands like 
an apple from a tree.” 

“Oh, no,” said Paul airily. “We’ve always had this 
place in mind for some such use as the present, and 
from time to time we’ve been stocking it up with food. 
We could live here a year in comfort. Long Jim is 
cooking deer steaks now, and the smoke is going out 


190 


BESIEGED 


through a hole, which leads clear through the hill. If 
you'll go around to the other side, about a mile from 
here, you'll see the smoke." 

Paul merely followed the Indian fashion of taunt- 
ing one's enemies. He believed that in the forest it 
was best to follow its ways. 

‘'Aren't you going, Braxton?" he called. “Long 
Jim is letting the fire die down and if you don't hurry 
around there you won't see the smoke." 

“You think you're smart, Paul Cotter," Braxton 
Wyatt called back in anger. “You've read too many 
books. Drop your high and mighty ways and come 
down to facts." 

“Well, what do you want? You're in our front 
yard and we have the right to shoot you, but we won't 
do it until you tell what you're doing there." 

“As I said, we've got you shut up. We're sure that 
you haven't food for more than two or three days. 
Surrender and we'll spare your lives and take you as 
prisoners to the British at Detroit — that is, all except 
Henry Ware." 

“And why except Henry?" 

“He has done so much against the warriors that I 
don't think we could induce them to spare him." 

“But what makes you think he's here?" 

Wyatt hesitated and he and Blackstaffe spoke to- 
gether a few moments in a low voice. Then he re- 
plied : 

“One of our largest and strongest warriors was 
strangled nearly to death last night. Nobody could 
have done it but Ware." 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


Paul laughed loud. 

“And so that’s your evidence!” he cried. “Well, 
you’re mistaken. I did that myself. I was needing a 
little exercise and so I went out, found this warrior 
in the grass and manhandled him. Then I came back 
feeling a lot better.” 

Wyatt’s face blazed. 

“You lie, Paul Cotter,” he exclaimed. “You 
couldn’t do such a thing!” 

“Oh, yes, I could,” said Paul merrily, “but you’re 
losing your temper again, Braxton. You should never 
call anybody a liar when you’re within range of his 
gun. No, we’re not going to shoot. We always 
respect a flag of truce, though we doubt whether you 
would. Now, I want to ask you what have we ever 
done to make you think we’d betray a comrade like 
Henry? Are you judging us by yourself ? You might 
have a thousand warriors out there and our answer 
would be the same. Try to take us and see what will 
happen. We give you just two minutes to get out of 
range.” 

Wyatt, Blackstaffe and the two Indians retired hur- 
riedly. Long Jim uttered an indignant exclamation. 

“What’s the matter with you, Jim?” asked Henry. 

“I’ve been insulted.” 

“Insulted? What do you mean?” 

“To think anybody could have reckoned that me an* 
the others would be mean enough to give you up jest 
to save our own hides !” 

Henry’s eyes twinkled. 

“I know you wouldn’t give me up, Jim, but how do 


192 


BESIEGED 


you know, if our places had been changed, that I 
wouldn’t have given you up?” 

“You’re talkin’ like Shif’less Sol,” said Long Jim in 
the utmost good humor. “Now I wonder whar that 
ornery, long-legged cuss is.” 

“Not so far away, it’s safe to say. He’ll be hang- 
ing around, ready to help whenever help is needed 
most.” 

“That’s shore. Thar’s a heap o’ good in Shif’less 
Sol, though it don’t always ’pear on the surface. 
Wish he wuz here. Now, what’s next, Henry?” 

“Waiting, waiting, and then more waiting.” 

“You don’t think they’ll give it up an’ go away?” 

“Not for two or three days anyhow, and I think it 
likely also that they’ll make another general attack.” 

“An’ you think, too, that they’ve all gone some dis- 
tance out of rifle shot?” 

“Not a doubt of it, but why do you ask, Jim?” 

“Y~ou see a lot uv dead wood lay in’ in the bushes not 
twenty feet from the door uv our manshun. I’d like 
to drag it in an’ cook that thar deer afore it sp’ils. 
We’ve some wood already, but we need more. I think 
we could manage so most uv the smoke would go out 
in front an’ we wouldn’t choke. Ef we’re held here 
fur a long time we’ll need that thar deer.” 

“Go ahead, Jim, and get it. . We three will cover 
you with our rifles.” 

Jim stole forth, and making a number of trips under 
the muzzles of his comrades, brought in a plentiful 
supply of wood. It was not until he was returning 
with his last load that the Indians noticed him. Then 


193 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


they sent up a war cry, and fired several distant shots. 
But it was too late. Long Jim was safely inside the 
next moment, and the warriors, knowing how deadly 
were the rifles that guarded him, were afraid to return 
to the attack. 

‘‘Him that does at once what he oughter do don‘t 
have to do it when it’s too late,” said Long Jim. “I’m 
goin’ to build a fire close to the door, where most uv 
the smoke will go out. Ef it gits too strong fur us 
we’ll jest hev to put it out. But ef things work smooth 
I mean to cook that deer.” 

They cut up the deer in slices with their big hunting 
knives. Then they heaped the dry wood near the 
door and cut off many shavings and splinters, building 
up the heap at least part of the way outside, in such 
a position that they were sure the wind would take the 
smoke and most of the heat down the valley. Then 
Long Jim, feeling that the rest of the task was his, 
and having a certain pride, lighted the heap with his 
flint and steel. It blazed up rapidly, and, as they had 
hoped, the wind carried nearly all the smoke out of 
the mouth of the cave. 

The dry wood burned rapidly and a great mass of 
coals soon gathered. It was very hot in the cave, but 
liberal applications of the cold water enabled them to 
stand it. Meanwhile all except the one on guard 
were busy broiling big steaks on the ends of sticks and 
laying them away on the leaves. The whole place was 
filled with the pleasant aroma. 

“Warriors!” said Tom Ross, who happened to be 
on g^ard at that particular moment. “They’ve seen 


194 


BESIEGED 


our smoke, an’ mebbe our fire, an’ they don’t under- 
stan’ it.” 

“You see that they keep on failing to understand 
it,” said Henry, “and if curiosity makes any of them 
too curious just give him a hint.” 

The three went on with their cooking, “storing up 
like Noah against the flood,” Paul said, knowing that 
Silent Tom would keep a watch beyond which no 
warrior could pass. 

“Our beautiful stone house will need a good airing 
after all this is over,” said Paul. “Smoke will gather 
and ashes too are flying about. But it’s a grand 
cooking.” 

“So it is,” said Long Jim, who was in his element. 
“That wuz shorely a fine fat deer. You kin pile more 
on that shelf in the rock, thar, Paul. Wrap the dry 
leaves ’roun’ ’em, too. They’re clean an’ good. I 
guess that old-timer uv yourn that you’ve told us 
about often — ’Lysses, wuzn’t it?” 

“Yes, Ulysses.” 

“That’s right. Well, old ’Lysses in them roamings 
uv his, lastin’ a thousand years or some sech time, 
would hev been glad to come upon a place like this to 
rest his wanderin’ an’ sleepy head. I’ve a notion uv 
my own too, Paul.” 

“What is it?” 

“That Greece ain’t the land it’s cracked up to be. 
I’ve never heard you tell uv any rivers thar like the 
Ohio or Missip. I ain’t heard you say anythin’ about 
the grand forests like ourn, an’ all the hundreds an’ 
thousands uv branches an’ creeks an’ springs.” 


195 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


“No, Jim, it’s a dry country, mostly bare.” 

“Then the wilderness here fur me. I like a big 
woods, a thousand miles every way, an’ the leaves so 
thick you kin hardly see the sky above in spring. 
I don’t see what the herds of buff’ler found thar to 
live on.” 

“They didn’t have our kind of buffalo.” 

“Ef they didn’t hev our kind they didn’t hev any 
kind.” 

Paul did not argue the question with him, because 
it was useless to talk to Long Jim about ancient 
glories, when modern glories that he considered so 
much greater were before his eyes. Moreover, Paul 
himself had a love of the greenwood, and the deep 
streams, so numerous. 

“Maybe you’re right, Jim,” he said. 

“I guess I am,” returned Long Jim emphatically. 
“An’ I don’t think so much uv them old Greek fight- 
ers ’long side the fellers that fight the warriors now- 
adays in these woods. You rec’lect we talked that 
over once before. Now, how would A-killus, all in 
his brass armor with his shinin’ sword an’ long spear 
come out tryin’ to stalk an’ Injun camp. Why, they’d 
hear his armor rattlin’ a quarter uv a mile away, an’, 
even ef they didn’t, he’d git his long spear so tangled 
up in the bushes an’ vines that he couldn’t move ’less 
he left it behind him. An’ s’pos’n’ he had to run fur 
it an’ come to a creek or a river, which he would 
shorely soon do, ez thar are so many in this country, 
an’ then he’d have to jump in with ’bout a hundred 
pounds uv brass armor on. Why, he’d go right to the 

196 


BESIEGED 


bottom an* stick down so deep in the mud that the 
Injuns would hev to dive fur his scalp.’* 

‘There’s no doubt of the fact that this country 
would not have suited Achilles.” 

“Not by a long shot, nor would it hev suited any 
other uv them fellers, be they Greek or be they Trojan. 
S’pose the Injuns didn’t git after ’em, then think uv 
huntin’ the buff’ler with your long spear, an’ your hun- 
dred pounds uv brass clothes on. Why, the Shawnees 
an’ Miamis are a heap more sensible than them old 
Greeks wuz. An’, think what it would be on a real 
hot day to hev to wear our metal suits! Paul, I’m 
givin’ thanks ev’ry few minutes that I wuzn’t born in 
them times.” 

“A movement in the woods opposite!” announced 
Henry, who was on watch now. 

“Tell us about it,” said Long Jim. “Pm too busy 
to stop my work and look.” 

“I can see warriors stirring among the trees and 
bushes. They can’t understand our smoke, and 
they’re all looking at it.” 

“Maybe they take it for a signal,” said Paul. “Al- 
most anyone would do so.” 

“That’s true,” said Henry. “It looks natural. 
Well, let ’em wonder. Meanwhile we’ll go on with 
the provisioning of our army.” 

“ ’Tain’t such a terrible task,” said Long Jim. “Me 
bein’ the best cook in the world, it’ll all be done in a 
couple uv hours more, an’ bein’ sparin’ we kin hold 
out on it two or three weeks ef we hev to.” 

“I don’t think it will be that long,” said Henry 


197 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


confidently. “In fact we mustn't let it be too long. 
IWe've got to be out and away, following that red 
army with the cannon." 

They continued their work without interruption, 
although at intervals they saw the Indians on the far 
slope, well out of range, but attentively watching the 
smoke that came from the mouth of the cavern. When 
the task was nearly over Long Jim took a good long 
look at them. Then he laughed deeply and a long time, 
doubling over with merriment. 

“ 'Scuse me, Henry,” he said, “but this life is so 
full uv jokes. I enjoy it all the time, ev'ry minnit uv 
it. A little while ago I wuz laughin' at the notion of 
A-killus with a hundred pounds or more uv brass on 
him, runnin' away from the warriors, jumpin' in a 
creek an' stickin' in the mud at the bottom clean down 
to his waist.” 

“That was the joke then, Jim, what's the joke 
now ?” 

“It's them Injuns out than They know we're here, 
an' that thar's a kind uv long narrow mouth to this 
bee-yu-ti-ful stone house uv ourn. They see smoke 
coinin' out uv it, an' they don't understand it. They 
wonder ef fire hez busted right out uv the bowels uv 
the earth an' burnt us all up, an' ag'in they're 'fraid 
to come an' see lest they meet rifle bullets ez well ez 
smoke. I pity them red fellers.” 

“I think that pity is wasted on men who want to 
kill us and take our scalps.” 

“It ain't that. I know they want to do them things 
to us, but I know, too, that they ain't goin' to do 'em. 

198 


BESIEGED 


It's 'cause they're so onsartain in thar minds. Onsar- 
tainness is the greatest uv all troubles. Keeps you so 
you can't eat an' sleep, nor keep still neither. Jest 
plum' w'ars you out. Ef you know what you're goin' 
to do you're all right, but ef you don’t you’re all 
wrong. That’s the reason I feel sorry fur them Injun 
fellers, lookin' at our smoke an' a-guessin', an' a-guess- 
in’, an' a-guessin' an’ never guessin' right. We’ll be 
all through in a half-hour an' then we kin let the 
fire die." 

“Right glad I’ll be, too,” said Paul, who was stand- 
ing near the door for air, and glad they all were when 
the last of the deer was cooked, and the last of the 
coals were shoved out to die among the green bushes. 
While the work was going on they had frequently 
thrown water from the little stream over themselves 
to check the heat, but now they took their blankets 
and standing in a line at the far end of the cavern 
swept out all the smoke save that which lingered in 
the crannies until, in its own good time, it too de- 
parted. 

Then all sat down near the door. A lucky turn 
of the wind sent the pure sweet air, crisp with the 
touch of spring, pouring into their cavern. It was like 
the breath of Heaven, taking away the sting of smoke 
from nostrils and throat. The place itself soon filled 
entirely with a new atmosphere, vital and strong. 
Then, one by one, they bathed their eyes and faces 
at the rill, and soon they were all gathered together 
again at the door, feeling as if they had been re- 
created. Indians were still visible on the opposite 


199 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


slope, and pity swelled once more in Long Jim's heart. 

“Now they’re a-guessin’, an’ a-guessin’, an’ a-gues- 
ag’in,” he said, “an’ a-guessin’ wrong ev’ry time. A 
little while ago our smoke bothered ’em, an’ now 
they’re bothered ’cause thar ain’t no smoke. They’re 
wonderin’ ef the volcano that busted right under us 
hez quit so soon, an’ whether we’re all charred ruins, 
or real live fellers with rifles in our hands that kin 
shoot an’ hit. That I call a state uv mind that would 
draw pity from anybody.” 

“Whatever it is,” said Paul, “they’ll not guess what 
has really happened, and ac our army of four is now 
provisioned indefinitely, we can bid them defiance.” 

“I like them words ‘bid them defiance,’ ” said Long 
Jim. “Ef I met ‘defiance’ all by itself I wouldn’t 
know what it meant, but speakin’ ez you do, Paul, an’ 
with all the surroundin’s you give it I understan’ it, an’ 
it sounds mighty fine. Braxton Wyatt, I bid you de- 
fiance; Blackstaffe, I bid you defiance; Red Eagle, I 
bid you defiance, an’ I bid defiance to ev’ry warrior 
an’ renegade in all these woods, east uv the Missip, 
west uv the Missip, north uv the Ohio an’ south uv 
the Ohio.” 

“But not the lightning, Jim,” said Paul. “Ajax 
did that and got hurt.” 

“You needn’t tell me that, Paul. I don’t need the 
example of no Ajax to teach me sense. I ain’t defy in’ 
no lightnin’, past, present or future. I know lightnin’, 
an’ I’ve too much respeck fur it. It’s about the only 
thing that kin hit you an’ you can’t hit back.” 

“The Indians have retreated further into the woods,” 


200 


BESIEGED 


said Henry. “TheyVe probably lying down and rest- 
ing. They won't do anything today, but tonight they’ll 
act. They have every incentive to finish their task 
here as soon as they can and join the main force. 
When dark comes we must watch two by two.” 

Night came slowly, the great sun blazing in red and 
gold in the west. Henry, with all his lore of the 
forest and wilderness, never failed to observe a bril- 
liant sunset, and while he watched against an ambush 
he also watched the deep, rich colors as they faded. 
The wind had blown gently all day long, but now 
with the coming of the darkness it swelled into the 
song which he alone heard, that playing of the breeze 
upon the leaves, which his supersense translated into 
notes and bars and harmonies. Whenever he heard it 
he was uplifted 'and exalted in a singular manner, as 
if the distant heralds were already blowing the trum- 
pets of victory. He was sure now of success. 

He and Long Jim kept the first watch, which would 
last until some time after midnight, and he chose it 
for himself, because he felt certain the attack would 
come before it was over. Paul and Tom went to sleep 
on the leaves inside, but he and Jim lay down just 
within the door, where they could see some distance 
and yet remain well sheltered. Now and then they 
exchanged a word or two. 

'Tt’s eyes an’ ears both, Henry,” said Long Jim. 
‘‘Uv course, they’ll come a-creepin’, an’ a-slidin’, an’ 
I reckon it’ll be ears that’ll tell us fust they’re a-knock- 
in’ at our front door.” 

‘‘Right, Jim. Our ears have saved us more than 


201 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 

once, and they’re going to do it again. I’ve an idea 
that they’ll spread out and approach from different 
points.” 

“I think it likely. Red Eagle, their leader, is a chief 
uv sense, and he’ll scatter his forces so we won’t 
be able to concentrate our fire.” 

They waited a long time, the wind meanwhile blow- 
ing steadily, and playing its song upon the leaves. 
There was no other sound, but, when it was nearly 
midnight, a long howl, inexpressibly dreary and weird, 
came out of the depths of the forest. 

“That’s a mighty lonely wolf,” whispered Long 
Jim. 

“Listen !” Henry whispered back. “That’s no wolf. 
It’s Shif’less Sol.” 

“Mebbe it’s so, but he’s shorely howlin’ like the king 
of all wolves.” 

Long Jim was right. Perhaps no wolf had ever be- 
fore howled with such vigor and endurance. The long 
yelping, whining note filled the whole valley and quiv- 
ered on the air. It rose and sank and rose again, and 
it was uncanny enough to make any ordinary hearer 
shiver to his bones. 

“Now what in thunder does he mean by sech an 
awful howl ez that?” whispered Long Jim. 

“I know,” replied Henry, with a flash of intuition. 
“He’s hanging somewhere on the outskirts of the In- 
dian camp, and he’s warning us that the attack is at 
hand.” 

“Uv course! Uv course! I might ’a’ knowed. That 
thar Shif’less Sol is one uv the smartest men the world 


202 


BESIEGED 


hez ever seed, an’ while part uv our band is inside a 
big part uv it is outside, a-helpin’ us.” 

‘‘Wake up Paul and Tom and tell ’em the time has 
come.” 

In an instant all four were crouching beside the 
opening, their rifles ready. The extra rifle that Henry 
had brought in was lying loaded at his feet, and all 
the while the wolf on the far ridge, moving from place 
to place, whined and howled incessantly. Despite 
Henry’s knowledge of its source it made his hair rise 
a little, and a quiver ran along his spine. What then 
must be its effect upon red men, who were so much 
more superstitious than white men ? They might think 
it the spirit of some great forgotten warrior that had 
gone into a wolf which was now giving warning. 

Nevertheless he listened with all the power of his 
hearing for what might happen closer by, and 'pres- 
ently he heard a rustling in the grass that was not 
caused by the wind. A moment later, and the rustling 
came from a second point and then a third. As he had 
surmised, Red Eagle had spread out his men until they 
were advancing like the spokes of a wheel toward a 
hub, the hub being the mouth of the cavern. And 
from the far ridge the warning cry of the wolf never 
ceased to come. 

“Do you hear them creeping?” whispered Henry to 
Ross. 

Silent Tom nodded and shoved forward the muzzle 
of his rifle. 

“They’ll be on us in a minute,” he whispered back. 

Paul and Long Jim had heard and they too made 


203 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


ready with their rifles. But all of them relied now on 
Henry, whose hearing was keenest. The faint, sliding 
sounds ceased, and he knew that the warriors had 
stopped to listen for their enemies, hoping to catch 
them off guard. The howling of the wolf also ceased 
suddenly, and the wind was again supreme. 

At least ten minutes passed in almost intolerable 
waiting, and then Henry heard the renewal of the 
faint sliding sounds, coming from many points. 

“Be ready,’^ he whispered to his comrades. “When 
they’re near enough they’ll all jump up, utter a mighty 
yell and rush for us.” 

The rustlings came closer, then they ceased all at 
once, there was a half minute of breathless silence, 
and the air was rent by a tremendous war whoop, as 
twenty warriors, springing up, rushed for the open- 
ing. Henry fired straight at the heart of the first man, 
and snatching up the second rifle sent a bullet through 
another. The other three fired with deadly aim and 
all the assailants fell back, save one who, standing on 
the very edge of the opening, whirled his tomahawk 
preparatory to letting it go straight at Henry’s head. 
But a moment before it could leave his hand a rifle 
cracked somewhere and he fell dead, shot through the 
head, his figure lying directly across the entrance. 
From the other Indians came a yell of rage and dis- 
may, and then after a groan or two somewhere in the 
grass, all were gone. 

But the four were reloading with feverish haste. 
Henry, however, found time to say to Silent Tom 
Ross : 


204 


BESIEGED 


“Thank you for the shot that saved me.” 

Tom shook his head. 

“ 'Twuzn’t me,” he said. 

“Then you, Paul.” 

“I shot at an Indian, but not that one. It was a 
warrior ten yards away.” 

“Then it must hev been you, Jim.” 

“It wuzn’t, though. I wuz too busy with a warrior 
off thar to the left. When that feller wuz about to 
throw his tomahawk Pd done fired.” 

“And so it was none of you. Then Pm to be thank- 
ful that weVe a friend outside. Nobody but Shi f ’less 
Sol could have fired that shot.” 

“An’ jest in time,” said Long Jim. “Good old Sol. 
He’s settin’ off somewhar in the bushes now, laughin’ 
at the trick he’s played ’em.” 

“They’ll look for him,” said Henry, “but whenever 
they come to a place he won’t be there.” 

“They can’t besiege us here,” said Paul, “and catch 
Shif’less Sol at the same time. But I think we ought 
to remove the body of that fallen warrior at the door. 
I don’t like to see it there.” 

“Neither do I,” said Long Jim, and stepping for- 
ward he lifted the slain man in his arms and tossed 
him as far as he could down the side of the hill. They 
heard the body rolling and crashing some distance 
through the grass and bushes, and they shuddered. 

“I hated to do it,” said Long Jim, “but it had to 
be done. Besides, they’ll get it now and take it 
away.” 

“You look for no other attempt tonight?” said Paul. 


205 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


“No/* said Henry. “They*ve lost too many men. 
They may try to starve us out.** 

“Now you an* Jim take your naps,** said Silent 
Tom, “while me an* Paul keep the watch till day.** 
“All right,** said Henry, “but I want to wait eight 
or ten minutes.** 

“What fur?** 

“You*ll see — or rather you*ll hear.** 

Before the appointed time had passed the long howl- 
ing note of a wolf came from a point a quarter of a 
mile or more away. 

“Shif*less Sol is safe,** said Henry, and five minutes 
later he and Long Jim were sound asleep. 


CHAPTER XI 


THE SHIFTLESS ONE 

T he next day dawned as brilliant as the one that 
had gone before, a golden sun clothing the vast 
green forest in a luminous light. It seemed to 
Henry that each day, as the spring advanced, deepened 
the intense emerald glow of the leaves. Down in the 
valley he caught the sparkle of the brook, as it flowed 
swiftly away toward a creek, to be carried thence 
to the Ohio, and on through the Mississippi to the 
sea. 

Further up the opposite slope, five or six hundred 
yards away, were gathered the Indians around a fire 
in an opening, eating breakfast. Henry saw Wyatt 
and Blackstaffe with them, and he counted eighteen 
figures. As they had already suffered severe losses he 
concluded that they had received a small reinforce- 
ment, since they must have out four or five scouts and 
spies watching the little fortress. 

Evidently they had not been daunted by their re- 
pulse of the night before, as they were broiling veni- 
son on the ends of sharpened sticks and eating heart- 
ily. The two white men finishing their food lay down 


207 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 

on the grass and rested lazily. By and by the red 
members of the band did likewise. 

“It’s just as we thought last night,” said Henry. 
“They will not try to carry us by assault again, but 
will undertake to starve us out with a long siege. Even 
if they’ve guessed the meaning of our smoke they 
don’t know that we have in here running water that 
runs on forever.” 

“Would they care to carry on a long siege?” asked 
Paul. 

“Maybe not, if Wyatt were not there. You know 
how he hates us all, and he will be continually urging 
them to attack us. Perhaps Red Eagle and Blackstaffe 
will now go on and join the main army, leaving Wyatt 
with a chosen band to take us by siege.” 

“ ’Pears likely to me,” said Long Jim, who was lis- 
tening. “It’s easy enough for them to set thar out uv 
range an’ hold us in here, but they forget one mighty 
important thing.” 

“What’s that, Jim?” 

“Shif’less Sol. He’s in the bush, an’ he kin stalk 
’em when he pleases. They don’t know that the war- 
rior killed at the door last night fell afore his bullet, 
an’ he kin bring down one uv ’em any time he feels 
like it. Thar’s a panther in the bushes right by the 
side uv ’em an’ they don’t know it. An’ it’s a panther 
that will bite ’em, too, an’ git away ev’ry time. Hark 
to that, will you ?” 

They heard the distant sound of a rifle shot and 
saw one of the Indians around the campfire sink 
over in the grass. The others uttered a terrific yell 


208 


THE SHIFTLESS ONE 


of rage, and a half-dozen darted away in the bushes. 

ain't no prophet, nor the son uv a prophet," said 
Long Jim, “but Fll bet my scalp that in an hour or two 
they'll come back without Shi f 'less Sol." 

“I won't take your bet," said Paul. “Six warriors 
started away in pursuit, and now we'll see how many 
return." 

“The first will be back in an hour," said Long Jim, 
“ 'cause Sol w'on't leave no trail a-tall, a-tall. He 
made shore uv that afore shootin'." 

“I believe you are a prophet, Jim," said Paul. “Let’s 
watch together." 

Within the appointed hour two warriors returned, 
bringing with them nothing that they had not taken 
away, and sat down in the opening, their attitude that 
of dejection. 

“They never struck no sign of no trail, nowhere, 
nohow," said Long Jim, exultantly. 

“Too many negatives, Jim," said Paul, reprovingly. 

“Too many what?" exclaimed Long Jim, staring. 
“I never heard of them things afore !” 

“It’s all right anyhow. There comes another war- 
rior, and he too bears no bright blonde scalp, such as 
adorns the head of our faithful and esteemed comrade, 
Solomon Hyde.” 

“That's three 'counted fur, an' three to come. I 
know, Paul, that Sol will git away, that they can't 
foller him nohow, but I'd like fur them three to come 
back empty handed right now. It would be awful to 
lose good old Sol. Uv course he’s always wrong when 
he argys with me, but Pm still hopin’ some day to 


209 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


teach him somethin’, an’ I don’t want to lose him.” 

Paul saw deep anxiety on the face of Long Jim. 
These two were always in controversy, but they were 
bound together by all the ties of the border, and 
the loss of either would be a crushing blow to the 
other. 

Long minutes dragged by and became an hour, and 
the face of Jim Hart expressed apprehension. 

“It’s time fur at least one more to come back,” he 
said. 

“Well, there he is,” said Paul. “Don’t you see him 
stepping out of those bushes on the east?” 

“Has he anything at his belt?” asked Long Jim 
eagerly. 

“Nothing that he doesn’t usually carry. He has no 
yellow scalp, nor any scalp of any kind. Empty he 
went away and empty he has returned.” 

“So fur, so good. Two more are left out, an’ it’ll 
now be time fur them to come trampin’ back.” 

“Be patient, Jim, be patient.” 

“I am, but you must rec’lect, Paul, that thar cornin’ 
back soon means the life uv a man, a man that’s one 
uv us five, an’ that we could never furgit ef so be the 
Injuns took him.” 

“I’m not forgetting it, Jim, but I’ve every confidence 
in Shif’less Sol. I don’t believe those warriors could 
possibly get him.” 

Another half-hour dragged away, and Long Jim be- 
came more uneasy. He scanned the woods everywhere 
for the two missing warriors, and, at last, he drew a 
mighty sigh of relief when a tufted head appeared over 


210 


THE SHIFTLESS ONE 


the bushes, and a warrior returned to the opening. 

‘‘He’s a Shawnee,” said Long Jim. “I marked him 
when he went away. I kin see that he’s tired an’ I 
could tell by the bend in his shoulders that he wuz 
cornin’ back with nothin’. He’s set down now, an’ ez 
he ’pears to be talkin’ I guess he’s tellin’ the others, to 
’scuse his failure, that it wuzn’t really a man that he 
wuz follerin’, but jest a ghost or a phantom, or suthin’ 
uv that kind. Thar ain’t but one left an’ he ought to 
be in in a few minutes.” 

But the few minutes and many more with them slid 
into the past, without bringing back the last warrior, 
and once more that look of deep apprehension appeared 
on the face of Long Jim Hart. The man should have 
returned long before, and Jim held him to personal 
accountability for it. 

“I didn’t like his looks when he went away,” he 
complained to Paul. “He wuz a big feller, darker 
than most uv the others, an’ he wuz painted somethin’ 
horrible. I guessed by his looks that he wuz the best 
scout an’ trailer in the band an’ that he would hang on 
like a wolf. Ugly ez he is his face would look nice to 
me now, ’pearin’ in that openin’. He’s done outstayed 
his leave.” 

“I wouldn’t be worried, Jim,” said Paul. “We know 
what a man Sol is in the woods. No single warrior 
could bring him down.” 

“That’s so. Sol’s terrible smart, but then anybody 
might be ambushed. I tell you, Paul, that wuz the 
wickedest lookin’ warrior I ever saw. His eyes wuz 
plum’ full uv old Satan.” 

2II 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


“Why, Jim, we are too far away for you to have 
seen anything of that kind.” 

“I know that’s so at usual times, but them eyes uv 
his wuz shinin’ so terrible bright with meanness that 
I caught thar look like the gleam uv a burnin’ glass. 
I reckon he wuz the wust savage in all these woods. 
All but him hev come back more ’n a half-hour ago. 
an’ I’m beginnin’ to hev a sort uv creepy feelin’.” 

“Hark!” exclaimed Henry, who had been standing 
almost in the mouth of the opening. 

“What is it, Henry ? What is it ?” exclaimed Long 
Jim eagerly. 

“That strong wind brought the sound of a rifle shot. 
It was so faint and far away that it was no more than 
the snapping of a little twig, but it was a rifle shot and 
no mistake. Sol and that warrior have met.” 

“And who fired the bullet? And who received it? 
That’s what we’d like to know I” said Paul. 

Complete silence succeeded the shot. Evidently the 
Indians around the campfire had not heard it, as they 
showed no signs of interest, but the four in the mouth 
of the cavern waited in painful anxiety, their eyes 
turned toward the point from which the report had 
come. At last the scalp lock appeared above the bushes 
and four hearts sank. Then the figure of the warrior 
came completely into view and four hearts sprang up 
again. The man’s left arm was held stiffly by his side 
and he was walking with weakness. Nor did any 
bright blonde scalp hang from his waist or any other 
part of his body. 

“I knowed it! I knowed it!” exclaimed Long Jim, 


212 


THE SHIFTLESS ONE 


triumphantly. ‘'He come too close to Sol, an’ got a 
bullet in his arm. It must hev been a long shot or he 
must hev been nearly hid, else he would now be layin’ 
dead in the bushes. But ez it is he’s shorely got 
enough to last him fur a long time.” 

Paul was less vocal, but like the others he shared in 
the triumph of the shiftless one. 

“Fll admit I was worried for a while,” he said, 
“but Sol has given us one more proof that he can take 
care of himself any time and anywhere.” 

“And he has also proved to our besiegers,” said 
Henry, “that every hour they spend there they’re in 
peril of a bullet from the bush. I think it will give 
them a most disturbing feeling.” 

Henry was right, and he was also right in some of 
his earlier surmises. Red Eagle and Blackstaffe de- 
parted to join the main army, leaving Braxton Wyatt 
in command of the besieging band which had been re- 
inforced by a half-dozen warriors. Wyatt, animated 
by wicked passion, was resolved not to leave until he 
could kill or take those in the little fortress, but he was 
upset by the certainty that one of the terrible five was 
outside. He had believed from the first that it was 
Henry Ware, and, when their best warrior came in 
shot through the arm, he was sure of it. 

The warriors shared his state of mind. Their 
losses had inflamed them tremendously and all of them 
were willing to stay and risk everything for eventual 
triumph. Yet a terror soon fell upon them. The sin- 
gle marksman who roamed the woods sent a bullet 
singing directly through the camp, and the search for 


213 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


him failed as before. An hour later another who went 
down to the brook for water was shot through the 
shoulder. Wyatt saw that in spite of their desire for 
revenge superstitious fears were developing, and in 
order to prevent their spread he organized a camp, 
surrounded by sentinels whom nothing could escape. 
Then he awaited the night. 

Henry and his comrades had heard the second shot 
and they had seen the man whose shoulder had been 
pierced by the bullet, run toward the others leaving a 
red trail behind him, but they were not alarmed this 
time, as nobody left the camp. Evidently the warriors, 
stout-hearted though they were, did not care to trail 
the shiftless one once more, and in the growing dusk, 
too, when they would be at the mercy of his rifle. 

“He's got 'em stirred up a lot," said Henry, “and 
if they come again he will surely be a host on our side." 

Another attack was made that night, but it did not 
come until late, halfway between midnight and morn- 
ing, and, as Henry had suspected, it was not an as- 
sault, but an attempt by sharpshooters, hidden in the 
dark brush, to pick off watchers at the opening. The 
bullets of the besiegers were fired mostly at random 
and did nothing but chip stone. The besieged fired at 
the flash of the rifles and were not sure that they hit 
an enemy, but believed that they succeeded more than 
once. Then, as the night before, came the report of 
the lone rifle in the thicket, and a warrior, throwing up 
his hands, uttered his death cry, making it apparent 
to the defenders that the shiftless one was neither idle 
nor afraid. ^ 


^214 


THE SHIFTLESS ONE 


Then the Indians withdrew and the primeval silence 
returned to the valley. The four remained for a while 
without speaking, watchful, their rifles loaded anew 
and their fingers on the trigger. 

“Sol could come in now,” said Long Jim. “He 
must know that the way will be clear for a little while.” 

“He doesn’t want to come in,” said Henry. “He’s 
our link with the outside world, and when they attack 
he can be of more help to us because they don’t know 
from what point he will strike. The besiegers are also 
besieged.” 

“I’m thinkin’ they won’t attack ag’in fur a long 
time,” said Long Jim, “an’ that bein’ the case. I’m 
goin’ to eat some uv my own cookin’, knowin’ that it’s 
the finest in the world, an’ then go to sleep.” 

“All right, Jim,” said Henry, “you deserve both.” 

Long Jim was soon asleep, but Henry remained 
awake until daylight. He considered whether they 
should not attempt to escape now, join Shi f ’less Sol, 
and follow as fast as they could the main Indian army 
with the cannon. But he decided in the negative. The 
savages, despite their repulse, would certainly be on 
watch, and they were still too numerous for a fight in 
the bush. 

Hence they entered upon another day in the cavern, 
which was beginning to assume some of the aspects 
of home. It looked cosy, with the supply of venison 
and bear meat, the pleasant rill of cold water, the dry 
leaves upon which their blankets were spread for beds, 
and it was filled with cold fresh air that poured in at 
the opening. Henry felt once more that they had 


215 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


had luck, and he chafed at nothing but the long delay. 

And delay now it was certainly going to be, as Brax- 
ton Wyatt refrained from attack, both that day and 
the next, although he drew his lines so close to them 
that they had no chance to slip out. But cultivating 
Indian patience, they kept one man always on guard 
while the others lay at their ease on their beds of 
leaves, and, after the fashion of those who had much 
time, talked of many and various things. On the third 
day when the siege seemed to have settled down to a 
test of endurance, the day being clear and sharply 
bright, the four sat near the door of the fortress. Si- 
lent Tom was keeping watch with an eye that never 
failed, but he was able at the same time to hear what 
his friends said, and, when he felt the impulse, he 
joined in with a monosyllable or two. 

They were speaking of the main band going south 
with the cannon for the great attack upon the settle- 
ments, a subject to which Henry’s mind returned con- 
stantly. Alloway and the chiefs had a start of days, 
but he was incessantly telling himself that his com- 
rades and he, as soon as they were released from the 
siege, could overtake them quickly. The cannon which 
made their great strength also made their march slow. 

“Besides,” he said to the others, “they will have to 
cross many rivers and creeks with them, and every 
crossing will take trouble and time. As I figure it, 
they could go four-fifths of the way and we could still 
overtake them before they reached the settlement.” 

“I hope we’ll ruin the cannon fur ’em,” said Long 
Jim earnestly, “an’ that at last the settlers will beat 

2j6 


THE SHIFTLESS ONE 


’em so bad that they’ll never cross the Ohio ag’in. All 
this fightin’ with ’em breaks up my plans.” 

‘‘What are your plans, Jim?” asked Paul. 

‘‘They’re big ones, but thar’s nary one uv ’em that 
don’t take in you three here an’ Shi f ’less Sol that’s 
outside. I want to git in a boat, an’ go on one uv the 
rivers into the Ohio an’ then down the Ohio to the 
Missip, an’ down the Missip to New Or-lee-yuns whar 
them Spaniards are. I met a feller once who had been 
thar an’ he said it wuz a whalin’ big town, full uv all 
kinds uv strange people, an’ hevin’ an’ inquirin’ mind 
I like to see all kinds uv furriners an’ size ’em up. Do 
you reckon, Paul, that New Or-lee-yuns is the biggest 
city in the world?” 

“Oh, no, Jim. There are many much larger cities 
in the old continents, Europe, Asia and Africa.” 

“Them are so fur away that they hardly count no- 
how. An’ thar’s a lot uv big dead cities, ain’t thar?” 

“Certainly. Babylon, that our Bible often speaks 
of, and Nineveh, and Tyre, and Memphis and Thebes 
and ” 

“Stop, Paul ! That’s enough. I reckon I ain’t sorry 
them old places are dead. It took a heap uv ground 
fur ’em to stand on, ground that might be covered 
with grass an’ bushes an’ trees, all in deep an’ purty 
green like them out thar. Me bein’ what I am, I al- 
ways think it’s a pity to ruin a fine forest to put a 
town in its place.” 

“Those cities, I think, were mostly in desert coun- 
tries with an artificial water supply.” 

“Then I don’t want ever to see ’em or what’s left uv 


217 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


’em. People who built cities whar no water an’ trees 
wuz ought to hev seen ’em perish. Wouldn’t me an’ 
Sol look fine trailin’ ’roun’ among them ruins an’ over 
them deserts? Not a buff’ler, nor a deer, not a b’ar 
anywhar, an’ not a fish ; ’cause they ain’t even a good 
big dew fur a fish to swim in. 

‘‘But leavin’ out them old places that’s plum’ rusted 
away, an’ cornin’ back to this here favored land o’ ours, 
I want, after seein’ everythin’ thar is to be seen in the 
great city of New Or-lee-yuns, to go straight west 
with you fellers, an’ Shi f ’less Sol that’s outside, clean 
across the great buff’ler plains that we’ve talked about 
afore.” 

“Cross ’em!” said Silent Tom, speaking for the first 
time. “You can’t cross ’em. They go on forever.” 

“No, they don’t. Once I come across a French 
trapper who had been clean to the edge uv ’em, tradin’ 
with the Injuns fur furs. I don’t know how many 
weeks an’ months it took him, but cross ’em he did, 
an’ what do you think he found on the other side, Tom 
Ross?” 

“The sea.” 

“Nary a sea. He found mountains, mountains sech 
ez we ain’t got this side the Missip, mountains that go 
right up to the top uv the sky, cuttin’ through clouds 
on the way, mountains that are covered always with 
snow, even in the summer, an’ not a half-dozen or a 
dozen mountains, but hundreds uv ’em, ridges an’ 
ranges runnin’ fur hundreds an’ thousands uv miles.” 

“An’ beyond that?” asked Silent Tom. 

“Nobody know^s. But think what a trip it would be 


218 


THE SHIFTLESS ONE 


fur us five! Why it raises the sperrit uv romance 
mighty high in me. Paul hez often told us how them 
old Crusaders from France an’ England an’ Germany 
an’ all them Old World countries started off, wearin’ 
their iron clothes even on the hottest days, to rescue 
the Holy places from the infidel. I guess the sperrit 
uv adventure helped a heap in takin’ ’em, but thar 
travels wouldn’t be any greater, an’ grander than ourn 
across all them great plains an’ into them almighty high 
mountains beyond. You couldn’t even guess what 
we’d find.” 

Long Jim drew a deep breath, as his spirit leaped 
before him into the vast unknown spaces, and Paul’s 
eyes sparkled. The seed that Jim was sowing fell upon 
fertile ground. 

‘T believe I’d rather travel in the unknown than the 
known,” the boy said. “We’d come to rivers, big ones 
and lots of ’em, too, that no white man had ever seen 
before, and, when at last we reached the mountains, 
we’d explore in there for months and months, a year, 
two years may be. And we’d name the highest five 
peaks for ourselves.” 

“An’ I’d want a river named after me, too, Paul, 
an’ I don’t want it to be any little second rate river, 
either. I want it to be long an’ broad an’ deep an’ 
full uv mighty clear water, an’ when after a while, fur 
hunters come along in thar canoes. I’d say to ’em, ‘Dip 
down! Dip down with your paddles an’ don’t be 
afeard. This is the Long Jim Hart river, an’ me bein’ 
Jim Hart, the owner, I give you leave.’ ” 

“I heard the sound o’ a shot,” said Silent Tom. 


219 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


‘‘And there goes another/’ said Henry. “It seemed 
to be up the valley. Is it possible that Shif’less Sol 
has let himself be trapped in broad daylight?” 

All crowded into the doorway and looked and lis- 
tened, intense anxiety, despite themselves, tearing at 
their hearts. Shots at such a time were deeply sig- 
nificant. The Indians at the camp opposite, Braxton 
Wyatt with them, had risen and were looking fixedly 
in the same direction. 

A long triumphant shout suddenly came from a 
point in the forest up the valley, and then was suc- 
ceeded by another in which six or seven voices joined, 
the Indian chant of victory. The hearts of the four 
dropped like plummets in a pool, and they gazed at 
one another, aghast. 

“It can’t be that they’ve got him !” exclaimed Long 
Jim. 

“Listen to that song!” faltered Paul. “It celebrates 
the taking of a scalp I” 

“I’m afeared fur good old Sol,” said Tom Ross. 

Henry was silent, but a great grief oppressed him. 
The Indian chant was so triumphant that it could 
mean nothing but the taking of a scalp, and there was 
no scalp but that of the shiftless one to take. 

Louder swelled the song, while the singers were yet 
invisible among the bushes, and suddenly, the band 
gathered in the opening, began to sing a welcome, as 
they danced around the coals of their low campfire. 
Around and around they went, leaping and chanting, 
and the songs of both bands came clearly to those in 
the cave. 


220 


THE SHIFTLESS ONE 


Henryks face darkened and his teeth pressed closely 
together. An accident must have happened or the 
shiftless one would never have allowed himself to be 
trapped in the day. Yet he had hope, he said resolutely 
to himself that he must retain hope, and he watched 
continually for the smaller band that was approaching 
through the bushes. 

They emerged suddenly into view, and as his heart 
sank again, he saw that the leading warrior was whirl- 
ing a trophy swiftly around his head. The cries of the 
others at sight of the scalp redoubled. 

‘TFs Sohs, uv course!'’ growled Long Jim. ‘‘He’s 
gone an’ a better man never trod moccasin !” 

The others were silent, overwhelmed with grief. 
The two bands now joined and the dance of a score 
of warriors became wilder and wilder. At intervals 
they caught a glimpse of the scalp as it was waved 
aloft, and they raged, but were powerless. 

“We can’t go after them cannon now,” said Long 
Jim. “We’ve got to stay an’ git revenge fur poor old 
Sol.” 

“An’ that’s shore,” said Tom Ross. 

Henry and Paul were silent. It was the most ter- 
rible irony to stand there and see the savages rejoicing 
over the cruel fate of their comrade, and, as the water 
rose in their eyes, there came at the same time out of 
the depths of the forest the long lone howl of the wolf, 
now a deep thrilling note, something like a chord. 

“It’s Shif’less Sol ! he’s safe 1” cried Long Jim. “It’s 
jest a trick they’re workin’, tryin’ to beat down our 
sperrits, an’ good old Sol is tellin’ us sol” 


221 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


‘‘It's shorely time,” said Silent Tom, ‘'an' that’s an 
old scalp they’re whirlin’.” 

They had never before known the cry of a wolf to 
have such a deep and thrilling quality, but it came 
again as full and resounding as before, and they were 
satisfied. Not a doubt remained in the heart of any 
one of them. The shiftless one was safe and he had 
twice told them so. How could they ever have thought 
that he would allow himself to be trapped so easily? 
The savages might dance on and sing on as much as 
they pleased, but it did not matter now. 

“After lookin’ at them gyrations,” said Long Jim, 
“I needs refreshment. A dancin’ an’ singin’ party 
always makes me hungry. Will you j’in me in a 
ven’son an’ water banquet, me noble luds?” 

“Go ahead the rest o’ you,” said Tom Ross, “I’ll 
watch.” 

They drank from the rill, lay down on their couches 
and ate the deer meat with splendid appetites. The 
revulsion was so great that anything would have been 
good to them. 

“That wuz a purty smart trick, after all,” said Long 
Jim. “Ef they’d made us think they’d got Shif’less 
Sol’s scalp they’d make us think, too, that they’d git 
our own soon. An’ they reckoned then, mebbe, that 
we’d be so weak-sperrited we’d come out an’ sur- 
render.” 

“I foresee another dull and long period of inaction,” 
said Henry. 

And what he said came to pass. They remained two 
more days in their little fortress, besieged so closely 


222 


THE SHIFTLESS ONE 


that they did not dare to move. Yet the besiegers 
themselves were kept in a constant state of alarm. One 
of their best hunters, sent out for deer, failed to come 
back, and his body was found in the forest. The 
others began to be oppressed by superstitious fears, 
and it required all of Wyatt’s eloquence and force to 
keep them to their task. 

It was in Henry’s mind to wait for a wet night and 
then risk all and go. It was the rainy time of the year, 
and on their sixth night in the cavern the storm that 
they wished for so earnestly came, preceded by the 
usual heralds, deep thunder and vivid lightning. 

The four made ready swiftly. Every one carried 
upon his back his blanket and a large supply of ven- 
ison. The locks of rifles and other weapons and 
powder were kept dry under their hunting shirts. 
Henry thrust the extra rifle into a crevice, having an 
idea that he might need it some day, and would find it 
there. Then as the thunder and lightning ceased and 
the deep darkness and rushing rain came they took a 
last look at the strong little castle that had been such 
a haven to them. Only eyes like theirs trained to dusk 
could have made out its walls and roof and floor. 

‘Tt’s like leaving home,” said Paul. 

“Thar’s one good thing,” said Long Jim. “The 
savages in thar meanness can’t destroy it.” 

Henry led, and. Silent Tom bringing up the rear, 
they slipped into the open air, keeping close to one 
another lest they be lost in the thick darkness. Despite 
the pouring rain and the lash of the wind it felt good 
out there. They had been so long in one small close 


223 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL' 


place that it was freedom to have again the whole open 
world about them. The four stood a little while to 
breathe it in and then Henry led through the under- 
brush to the top of the hill. 

“Bend low/' he whispered to Paul, who was just 
behind him. “They must have a sentinel near here 
somewhere, and we don’t want to run into him.” 

Paul obeyed him and went on, but none of them 
noticed that Tom Ross, who was last, turned softly 
aside from the path, and then swung the butt of his 
rifle with all his might. But all heard the impact and 
the sound of a fall, and, as they whirled around, Henry 
asked : 

“What is it?” 

“The sentinel,” replied Ross. “He won’t bother us.” 

On they went in single file again, but Paul shud- 
dered. As their flight lengthened they increased their 
speed, and, when they were a half mile away, Paul 
jumped, as the long piercing howl of the wolf rose 
directly in front of him. It was Henry sending the 
signal to the shiftless one, and in an instant they heard 
a similar note in answer from a distant point. 

As they advanced further the signals were repeated 
and then the shiftless one came with swiftness and 
without noise through the bushes, rising up like a 
phantom before them. There were happy handshakes 
and the five, reunited once more, fled southward 
through the darkness and rain. 

“I thought you’d come out tonight, Henry,” said 
Shift’less Sol. “An’ I wuz waitin’ on the ridge ’til 
I heard your signal. Ain’t it grand fur all o’ us 


224 


THE SHIFTLESS ONE 


to be together ag’in, an’ to hev beat Baxton Wyatt?” 

“It was you, Sol, who were our greatest help.” 

The shiftless one chuckled, pleased at the compli- 
ment. 

“Guess I wuz the flyin’ wing o’ our little army,” he 
said. “Mebbe Wyatt an’ them warriors will hang 
’roun’ thar two or three days afore they find out we’ve 
gone.” 

“Not that long. The head of a warrior met Tom’s 
clubbed rifle as we came away, and if they don’t find 
him tonight they certainly will in the morning.” 

“I don’t care anyway. That band can’t overtake us, 
an’ it can’t trail us on a night like this. Thar! 
They’ve found the warrior!” 

The faint sound of a yell, more like an echo, came 
on the wind and rain, but it brought no fears to the 
five. They were quite sure that no pursuit could over- 
take them now. After a while, they let their gait sink 
to a walk, and began to pick their way carefully 
through the dripping forest. As they were wet, all 
save their ammunition, they did not hesitate to wade 
many flooded brooks and they felt that when day came 
their trail would still be hidden from even the keenest 
of the Indian trailers. 

Henry did not believe that Wyatt and his warriors 
could find them unless by chance, and as they were 
now many miles from the cavern, and the day was not 
far away, he began to think of a stopping place. Con- 
tinued exertion had kept them warm, despite the rain, 
but it would not be wise to waste their strength in a 
rapid flight, continued a long time. 


225 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


“All of you keep an eye for shelter/' he said. 
“Maybe we can find a windrow that will at least shut 
off a part of the rain.” 

He alluded to the masses of trees sometimes thrown 
down by a hurricane, often over a swath not more than 
two hundred yards wide. Where men did not exist to 
clear them away they were numerous in Kentucky, 
accumulating for uncounted years. But it was more 
than an hour before they came upon one of these 
heaps of tree trunks thrown thickly together. 

Yet it was a good den or lair. Many of the fallen 
leaves had sifted in and lay there. Perhaps bears had 
used these recesses in the winter, but the five were not 
scrupulous. Their lives were passed in the primitive, 
and they knew how to make the most of everything 
that nature offered, no matter how little. 

“I reckon we den up here,” said Long Jim. 

“We do,” said Henry, “and we might go farther 
and find a much worse place.” 

The trees evidently had been thrown down a long 
time, as great masses of vines had grown over them, 
forming an almost complete roof. Very little rain 
came through, and, as they had managed to keep their 
ammunition as well as their blankets dry, the lair was 
better than anything for which they had hoped. 
Trusting to the darkness and their concealment, all five 
wrapped themselves in their blankets and went to 
sleep. 

Now and then drops of rain forced their way 
through the vines and fell on the sleepers, but they 
did not awake. Such trifles as these did not disturb 


226 


THE SHIFTLESS ONE 


them. They were a part of the great wilderness, used 
to its ways, and troubled little by the ordinary hard- 
ships of human beings. The mental tension and the 
anxieties from which they had suffered were gone. 
The siege broken, and reunited, they could pursue the 
main force and the cannon with speed. 

The great revulsion made their sleep easy and un- 
troubled. Not one of them stirred as he lay beneath 
the covering made by the ancient hurricane, and every 
one of them breathed long and deep. 

Nature was watching over them while they slept. 
They belonged to the forest, and the forest was taking 
care of its own. The rain increased and it was driven 
harder by the wind, but folded in their blankets they 
remained snug, while their clothing dried upon them. 
A bear that had hibernated there, fleeing from the rain 
sought his own den, but he was driven away by the 
man smell. A bedraggled panther had an idea of 
taking the same shelter, but he too was repelled in like 
manner. 

The forest watched over its own not only through 
the night but after the sun rose. Braxton Wyatt and 
his warriors, consumed with rage, could find no sign 
of a trail. They had entered the cavern and seized 
upon the portions of venison left there, although the 
rifle escaped their notice, and then they had begun the 
vain pursuit. Long before day they gave it up, and 
started after the main army. 

It had been Henryks intention to sleep only the two 
hours until dawn, but the relaxation, coming after 
immense exertions and anxieties, kept him and all the 


227 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


others sound asleep long after the dripping forest was 
bathed in sunlight. It was a bright ray of the same 
sunlight entering through a crevice and striking him 
in the eye that awakened him. He looked at his com- 
rades. They were so deep in slumber that not one of 
them stirred. 

He heard a light swift sound overhead and saw that 
it was a gray squirrel running along their roof. Then 
came a song, pure and sweet, that thrilled through the 
forest It was sung by a small gray bird perched on 
a vine almost directly over Henry's head, and he won- 
dered that such a volume of music could come from 
such a tiny body. 

The squirrel and the bird together told him that 
nothing unusual was stirring in the forest. If war- 
riors were near that morning song would not be 
poured forth in such a clear and untroubled stream. 
The bird was their warder, their watchman, and he 
told them that it was sunrise and all was well. Feel- 
ing the utmost confidence in the small sentinel, and 
knowing that they needed more strength for the pur- 
suit, Henry closed his eyes and went to sleep again. 

The little gray bird was the most redoubtable of 
sentinels. Either the figures below were hidden from 
him or instinct warned him that they were friends. 
He hopped from bough to bough of the great win- 
drow, and nearly always he sang. Now his song was 
clear and happy, saying that no enemy came in the 
forest. He sang from sheer delight, from the glory 
of the sunshine, and the splendor of the great green 
forest, drying in the golden glow. Now and then the 


228 


THE SHIFTLESS ONE 


gray squirrel came down from a tree and ran over 
the windrow. There was no method in his excursions. 
It was just pure happiness, the physical expression of 
high spirits. 

The shiftless one was the next to awake, and he too 
looked at his sleeping comrades. His task had been 
the hardest of them all. Although his body had ac- 
quired the quality of steel wire, it had yielded never- 
theless under the strain of so many pursuits and 
flights. Now he heard that bird singing above him 
and as it told him, too, that no danger was near, he 
shifted himself a little to ease his muscles and went 
to sleep again. 

A half-hour later Long Jim came out of slumber- 
land, but he opened only one eye. The bird was trill- 
ing and quavering in the most wonderful way, telling 
him as he understood it, to go back whence he had 
come, and he went at once. Then came Paul, not more 
than half awakened, and the music of the song lulled 
him. He did not have time to ask himself any ques- 
tion before he had returned to sleep, and the bird sang 
on, announcing that noon was coming and all was 
yet well. 


CHAPTER XII 

ON THE GREAT TRAIL 

A n hour after the little gray bird had announced 
that it was noon and all was well Henry awoke, 
and now he sat up. The bird, hearing* rustlings 
below, and feeling that his task of watchman was over, 
flew away. His song was heard for a moment or two 
in the boughs of a tree, then it grew faint and died 
in the distance. But his work was done and he had 
done it well. 

Henry put his hand on Sol's shoulder, and the shift- 
less one also sat up. 

‘‘You've slept a week, Sol," Henry said. 

“That's a whopper. I just laid down, slept a minute, 
waked up, heard a bird singin', then slept another 
minute." 

“Just the same happened to me, but it's past mid- 
day. Look through the vines there and see the sun." 

“It's so. How time does pass when the warriors 
are lettin' your scalp alone." 

“Wake up, Jim." 

Shi f 'less Sol poked Long Jim with his moccasined 
foot. 


230 


ON THE GREAT TRAIL 


‘‘Here you, Jim Hart,'' he said. “Wake up. Do 
you think we’ve got nothin' to do but set here, an' 
listen to you snorin' fur two days an' two nights, 
when we've got to overtake an Injun army and 
thrash it?" 

“Don't tech me with your foot ag’in, Sol Hyde, an' 
don't talk to me so highfalutin'. It’s hard to git me 
mad, but when I do git mad I'm a lot wuss than Paul's 
friend, A-killus, ’cause I don't sulk in my tent, 
specially when I haven't got any. I jest rises up an' 
takes them that pesters me by the heels an’ w'ar 'em 
out ag’in the trees." 

“You talk mighty big, Saplin'.” 

“I’m feelin' big. I think I’ll go out an' stretch 
myself, bein' ez it’s a fine day an' these are my woods.” 

The talk awoke Paul also and all went outside. 
Henry and Silent Tom scouted for some distance in 
every direction, and, finding no sign of an enemy, the 
five ate cold venison and drank from one of the in- 
numerable streams. Then they deliberated briefly. 
They must find the trail of the Indian army and they 
were quite sure that it lay toward the east. If it were 
there they could not miss it, as a way for the cannon 
had to be cut with axes. Hence their council lasted 
only five minutes, and then they hastened due east- 
ward. 

Speed was impeded by the creeks and brooks, all of 
which were swollen yet further, compelling them in 
several cases to swim, which had to be done with care, 
owing to the need of keeping their ammunition dry. 
Night came^ the great trail was still un found, and they 


231 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


thought they might possibly have been mistaken in 
going to the east, but when they debated it again they 
resolved to continue their present course. Every prob- 
ability favored it, and perhaps the Indian army had 
taken a wider curve than they had thought. 

‘‘I’ve had so much rest and sleep that I’m good fur 
all night,” said Long Jim, “an’ the ground bein’ so 
soft from so much rain them cannon wheels will cut 
ruts a foot deep.” 

“That’s so,” said Shif’less Sol. “Why we could 
blindfold ourselves an’ hit that trail. Out o’ the 
mouths o’ men like Long Jim wisdom comes some- 
times, though you wouldn’t think it.” 

“All that you are, Solomon Hyde,” said Long Jim, 
“I’ve made. When I fust knowed you a tow-headed 
boy you didn’t have sense enough to come in out 
uv the rain. Now, by long years uv hard trainin’, 
mixin’ gentleness with firmness, I’ve turned you 
into somethin’ like a scout an’ trailer an’ Injun 
fighter, fit to travel in the comp’ny uv a man like 
myself. Now an’ then when I look at you, Solomon 
Hyde, I’m proud uv you, but I’m prouder uv myself 
fur makin’ a real man out uv sech poor stuff to start 
with.” 

“I’m still willin’ to learn, Jim,” grinned Shif’less 
Sol. 

“The trail ! The trail !” suddenly exclaimed Henry. 

They had emerged from heavy forest into a stretch 
of canebrake through which ran a long swath, trampled 
by many feet and cut by deep ruts. Hef ^ the cannon 
had passed perhaps a week ago, and they could follow 


232 


ON THE GREAT TRAIL 


the ruts as easily as the wheel of an engine follows 
the rails. 

‘T ’low they can’t make more’n ten or fifteen miles 
a day,” said Silent Tom. 

“While we, if we were hard pressed, could go thirty 
or forty, or more,” said Paul. 

“We could overtake ’em in three days,” said Henry. 

“An’ hevin’ done it,” said the shiftless one, “what 
are we goin’ to do next?” 

“It’s the cannon we’re after, as we all know,” said 
Henry, “and I confess that I can’t see yet how we’re 
going to get at ’em.” 

“I fancy we can tell more about it when we approach 
the Indian army,” said Paul. 

“There’s no other way,” said Henry. “If we keep 
close beside ’em we may get a chance at the cannon, 
but we’ve got to look out for Braxton Wyatt and his 
gang, who will be just behind us, on the same trail.” 

“Then we go straight ahead?” said Paul. 

They followed the great trail nearly all night, under 
the clear moon and stars, a fine drying wind having 
taken away all the dampness. As usual Henry led and 
Silent Tom brought up the rear, the one in front 
keeping an eye for a rear guard and the one behind 
watching for the advance of Braxton Wyatt’s force. 
The trail itself was leisurely. The speed of the 
cannon had to be the speed of the army, and there was 
ample time for parties to leave on hunting expedi- 
tions, and then rejoin the main band with their spoils. 

“They’re living well,” said Henry, as he pointed to 
the dead coals of numerous fires, and the quantities of 


233 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


bones scattered about. “They've had buffalo, bear, 
deer, turkey and lots of small game." 

“It’s an ideal country for an Indian army to travel 
in," said Paul. “The game fairly swarms in it." 

“An they don’t spare it neither," said Shif’less Sol. 
“These warriors are jest eatin’ thar way down to the 
settlements." 

“Here’s where they kept their cannon," said Henry, 
pointing to a place near the edge of the opening, “and 
they covered them for the night with strong canvas." 

“How do you know that?" asked Long Jim. 

“See this thorn bush growing just beside the place. 
The edge of the canvas caught on the thorns and when 
they pulled it away it left these threads. See, here are 
three of ’em."' 

“But how do you know it was strong canvas?" 

“Because if it hadn’t been, more than these three 
threads would have been left. I’m astonished at you ! 
‘What have you done with your wits ? It was just over 
there, too, that Alloway and Cartwright sat with the 
chiefs and held a council. Two or three bushes were 
cut down close to the ground in order that a dozen men 
or so might sit comfortably in a ring. They smoked 
a pipe, and came to some agreement. Here are the 
ashes that were thrown from the pipe after they were 
through with it. Then Alloway and Cartwright 
walked off in this direction. You can see even now 
the imprint of their boot heels. Moccasins would 
leave no such trace. It must have rained that night, 
too, because they spread their tent and slept in it." 

“You’re guessing now, Henry," said Long Jim. 


234 


ON THE GREAT TRAIL 


‘T don’t have to guess. This is the simplest thing in 
the world. One has only to look and see. Here are 
the holes where they drove the tent pegs. But the two 
officers did not go to sleep at once after the council. 
They sat in the tent and talked quite a while.” 

“How do you know?” 

“More ashes, and on the ground covered by the tent. 
Evidently they have pipes of their own, as most all 
English officers do, and they wouldn’t have sat here, 
and smoked, while on a hard march, if they did’nt have 
something important to talk about. I take it that the 
leaders af the Indian army are trying to solve some 
question. Perhaps they don’t know which of the 
settlements to march against first.” 

“Over here is where they kept the horses fur the big 
guns,” said Silent Tom. “Mebbe we might git at them 
horses, Henry.” 

“We might, but it wouldn’t help us much. The war- 
riors are so many that, although they don’t like work, 
they could take turns at pulling ’em along with ropes. 
They could do that too, with the wagons that carry the 
ammunition for the cannon. Come on, boys. It don’t 
pay us to linger over dead campfires. Here goes the 
trail which is as broad as a road.” 

He led the way, but stopped again in a few minutes. 

“They had their troubles when they started the next 
morning,” he said, as he pointed with a long fore- 
finger. 

They saw flowing directly across the road one of the 
innumerable creeks, swollen to a depth of about four 
feet by the rain, and with rather a swift current. Hun- 


235 


THE KBEPEES OF THE TRAIL 


dreds of footprints had been left in the soft soil near 
the stream, and they examined them carefully. In two 
places these traces were packed closely. 

“About twenty warriors gathered at each of these 
spots,’' said Henry, “and lifted the cannon into the 
wagons. Look how deep some of these footmarks are ! 
That was when the weight of the cannon sank them 
down. The Indians could have gone across the creek 
without the slightest trouble, but the cannon and the 
wagons delayed them quite a while. Come, boys, 
we’ve got to do some wading ourselves.” 

Reaching the opposite bank they found where the 
cannon had been lifted out again, and saw the deep 
ruts made by their wheels running on through the 
forest. 

“I don’t find the traces of no boot heels,” said Silent 
Tom. “What’s become uv them English?” 

“They’re riding now,” replied Henry. “They’re not 
as used as the Indians to forest marches, and they’ve 
all been compelled to take to the wagons for a while. 
But they won’t stay in ’em long.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because Alloway won’t want the warriors to look 
down on him or his men, and the Indians are impressed 
by physical strength and tenacity. As soon as they’re 
fairly rested he’ll get out and make all the others get 
out too.” 

In a half-hour he called their particular attention 
to a point in the great trail. 

“All of them got out of the wagons here,” he said. 
“Look where the boot heels cut into the ground. 

236 


ON THE GREAT TRAIL 

What^s this? A warrior coming out of the forest 
has joined them here. Perhaps he was a man sent 
by Braxton Wyatt or Blackstaffe to tell how they 
were getting along in their siege of us, and here is 
another trail, where a dozen warriors split from the 
band.’' 

“A huntin’ party, o’ course,” said the shif’less one 
as he looked at it. ‘‘They send ’em off on ev’ry side, 
ev’ry day, an’ we’ve got to watch mighty close, lest 
some o’ them light on us.” 

“Still,” said Henry, “when they got their game they 
wouldn’t come straight back to a trail already old. 
They’d go on ahead to catch up. It’s lucky that we’ve 
got plenty of venison and don’t have to do any hunt- 
ing of our own. Jim, you certainly did noble work 
as a cook back there.” 

“Which reminds me,” said Long Jim, “that I’ll chaw 
a strip uv venison now.” 

“Jim wuz always a glutton,” said the shiftless one, 
“but that won’t keep me from j’inin’ him in his pleas- 
ant pursuit.” 

Daylight found them in dense canebrake with the 
road that the army had been forced to cut for the 
cannon leading on straight and true. 

“We’ll find another camp about a half mile ahead,” 
said Henry. 

“Now that’s a guess,” said Long Jim. 

“Oh, no, it isn’t. Jim, you must really learn to use 
your eyes. Look up a little. See, those buzzards 
hovering over a particular spot. Now, one darts down 
and now another rises up. I suppose they’re still able 


237 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


to pick a few shreds of flesh from the under side of the 
big buffalo bones/' 

“I reckon your're right, Henry." 

They reached the old camp presently, within the 
indicated distance, but did not linger, pressing on over 
little prairies and across streams of all sizes. They 
noticed again and again where the hunting parties left 
the main army, and then where th^ came back. 

‘‘They've lots of ammunition," said Henry. “They 
must have the biggest supply that was ever yet fur- 
nished by Detroit." 

“Mebbe we kin git some uv it fur ourselves later 
on," said Tom Ross. 

“That’s not a bad idea, to get ammunition at the 
expense of the enemy. Their bullets might not fit our 
rifles, but we could use their powder. We may have 
our chance yet to raid 'em.” 

At noon they turned aside into the forest and sought 
a deep recess where they could rest and plan. Foliage 
and earth were dry now and they stretched themselves 
luxuriously, as they ate and talked. They reckoned 
that they could overtake the army on the following 
night or at least on the morning after, as its progress 
had been manifestly slower even than they had 
thought. Taking cannon through the great woods in 
which not a single road existed was a most difficult 
task. But every one of the five felt the need of exceed- 
ing great caution. Besides the hunters they might 
have to deal with the party that had left under Black- 
staff e and Red Eagle. For all they knew, this band 
might have taken a shorter course through the 

238 


ON THE GREAT TRAIL 


woods, and chance might bring on an encounter at 
any time. 

‘Tf they should strike our trail theyVe likely to 
follow it up,'" said the shiftless one. ‘‘Some o' 'em in 
lookin' fur game are shore to be far in the rear, an' 
them too may stumble on us." 

“ 'Pears to me," said Long Jim, “that we've come 
knowin' it, plum' into a big hornet's nest, but we ain't 
stung yet.' 

“An' we ain't goin' to be," said the shiftless one 
confidently. 

Thus did the knights of the forest discuss their 
chances, and they were as truly knights as any that 
ever tilted lance for his lady, or, clothed in mail, fought 
the Saracen in the Holy Land, and, buried in the vast 
forest, their dangers were greater, they so few against 
so many. 

Knowing now that they had no need to hurry and 
that to hurry was dangerous, they lay a long time in 
the woods, and some of them slept a little, while the 
others watched. But those who slept awoke when 
they heard the haunting cry of the the owl. The five 
sat up as another owl far to the left hooted in answer. 
Not one of them was deceived for an instant, as the 
signals were exchanged three times. Indian, they 
knew, was talking to Indian. 

“What do you think it means, Henry?" asked the 
shiftless one. 

“I've a notion that a small band has struck our 
trail and that it's signaling to a bigger one." 

“I'm sorry o' that." 


239 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


‘'So am I, because it will put the great band on 
guard against us. Our best weapon would have been 
the ignorance of the Indians that we were near.'' 

“Ef troubles git in our way we kin shoot 'em out uy 
it," said Long Jim philosophically. 

“So we can," said Henry, “but there goes one of 
the owls again, and it’s much nearer to us than it was 
before.” 

“An' thar’s the other answerin' from the other side," 
said Shi f less Sol, “an’ it, too, is much nearer." 

“ 'Pears ez ef they knowed more about us than we 
thought they did, an' are tryin' to surround us," said 
Long Jim. 

“An' we jest won't be surrounded," said Shif'less 
Sol. “We ain’t trained to that sort o’ thing an' it ain't 
a habit that we'd like." 

“Come on," said Henry, and, rifle on shoulder, he 
flitted through the thickets. The others followed him 
in single file, and they advanced toward a point mid- 
way between the opposing bands. Their line formed 
according to its invariable custom, Henry leading, the 
shiftless one next, followed by Paul, with Long Jim 
following, and Silent Tom covering the rear. 

They traveled now at high speed, and Henry felt 
that the need was great. He was sure that the bands, 
besides signaling to each other, were also calling up 
wandering hunters. The circle about them might be 
more nearly complete than they had thought. They 
kept to the darkest of the forest and fled on like a file 
of phantoms. A rifle suddenly cracked in the thicket 
and a bullet whistled by. Henry's rifle flashed in 


240 


ON THE GREAT TRAIT 


reply and no further sound came from the bushes. 
Then the phantoms sped on faster than ever. 

Henry reloaded his rifle, and all of them listened 
to the chorus of the owls, as they cried to one another 
in a circle the diameter of which might have been a 
third of a mile. The heart of every one beat faster, 
not alone because they were running, but because 
of that demon chorus. All the warriors had heard the 
rifle shots and they knew now just about where the 
fugitives were. The cry of an owl has a singularly 
weird and haunting quality, and when so many of 
them came together, coming as the five knew, from 
the throats of those who meant them death, its effect 
was appalling even upon such hardy souls as theirs. 

‘T wish they’d stop them cries,” growled Long Jim. 
“They git into my bones, an’ give me a sort uv creepy 
weakness ’bout the knees.” 

“Don’t let your knees buckle,” said Shif’less Sol. 
“Good knees are mighty important, jest now, ’cause 
you know, Jim, we’ll hev to make a pow’ful good run 
fur it, an’ ef your legs give out I’ll hev to stay back 
with you.” 

“I know you would, Sol, but that creepy feelin’ 
’bout my knees don’t weaken the muscles an’ j’ints. 
Runnin’ is my strongest p’int.” 

“I know it. I don’t furgit the time your runnin’ 
saved us all when the emigrant train wuz surrounded 
by the tribes.” 

“Down !” suddenly called Henry, and the five 
dropped almost flat, but without noise, in the bushes. 
Two dusky figures, evidently scouts, were running 


241 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


directly across their line of flight about fifty yards 
ahead of them. But Henry was quite sure that the two 
warriors had not seen them and the five, lying close 
and scarcely breathing, watched the dusky figures. 
The warriors paused a moment or two, looked about 
them, but, seeing nothing went on, and were quickly 
lost to sight in the brush. 

‘Tt was lucky,'' said Henry, as they rose and re- 
sumed their flight, ‘‘that the warriors didn't look more 
closely. I think fortune is favoring us." 

“It ain't fortune or luck," said Shif less Sol, “It’s 
jedgment, an' our long an' hard trainin'. I tell you 
jedgment is a power." 

A fierce yell arose behind them, a yell full of sav- 
agery and triumph. 

“They've hit our trail in the moonlight," said Hen- 
ry, “and as we have no time to dodge or lie in cover, 
there’s nothing to do but run faster." 

“An' keep a good lookout to both right an' left," 
said Shif 'less Sol. “They're cornin' now from all 
directions." 

The owls now began to hoot in great numbers, and 
with extraordinary ferocity. The cry made upon 
Paul’s sensitive mind an impression that never could 
be effaced. He associated it with cruelty, savagery 
and deadly menace. His ear even multiplied and ex- 
aggerated the sinister calls. The woods were filled 
with them, they came from every bush, and the menac- 
ing circle was steadily and surely drawing closer. 

Henry heard the heavy panting breaths behind 
him. They were bound to grow weary before long. 


242 


ON THE GREAT TRAIL 


Even if one were made of steel he could not run on 
forever. But he recalled that while they could not do 
so neither could the warriors. His keen ear noted that 
no cry of the owl came from the point straight ahead, 
and he concluded therefore that the circle was not yet 
complete. There was a break in the ring and he meant 
to drive straight through it. 

‘‘Now, boys,'’ he said, “slow up a little to let your 
breath come back, then we’ll make a great burst for it 
and break through.” 

Their pace sank almost to a walk, but the beat of 
their hearts became more nearly regular, and strength 
came back. Meanwhile the cries of the owls never 
ceased. They drummed incessantly on the ears of 
Paul, and made a sort of fury in his brain. It was 
a species of torture that made him rage more than ever 
against his pursuers. 

They stopped in a clump of cane and watched a 
single warrior pass near. When he was gone they 
stepped from the cane and began to run at high speed 
toward the opening in the circle which Henry judged 
could not be more than a hundred yards away. It 
was fortunate for them that the forest here contained 
little undergrowth to impede them. 

It was a great burst of speed to make after so long a 
flight, but the brief rest had helped them greatly, and 
they spurned the earth behind them. Now the Indian 
warriors caught sight of them, and rifles flashed in 
the night. The last owl ceased to hoot, and instead 
gave forth the war hoop. The forest rang with fierce 
yells, many anticipating a triumph not yet won. Many 


243 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


shots were fired on either flank, and leaves and twigs 
fell, but the five, bending low, fled on and did not yet 
reply. 

The young leader in those desperate moments was 
cool enough to see that no shots came from the point 
straight ahead, making it sure that the opening was 
still there. He counted, too, on the dusk and the 
generally poor markmanship of the savages. A single 
glance backward showed him that none of his com- 
rades was touched. Farther away on either side he 
saw the leaping forms of the warriors and then the 
flash of their wild shots. And still his comrades and 
he were untouched. 

''Now, boys,” he cried, "let out the last link in the 
chain!” and the five bounded forward at such speed 
that the Indians in the dusk could not hit the flying 
targets, and, still untouched they drove through the 
opening, and beyond. But the warriors behind them 
joined in a mass and came on, yelling in anger and 
disappointment. 

"Now, Sol,” said Henry, "we might let ’em have 
a couple of bullets. The rest of you hold your fire!” 

Henry and the shiftless one, wheeling swiftly, fired 
and hit their targets. A cry of wrath came from 
the pursuers, but they dropped back out of range, and 
stayed there awhile. Then they crept closer, until 
a bullet from Silent Tom gave them a deadly warning 
to drop back again, which they did with great prompt- 
ness. 

Then the five, summoning all their reserves of 
strength, sped southward at a rate that was too great 


244 


ON THE GREAT TRAIL 


for their pursuers. Paul soon heard the owls calling 
again, but they were at least a half mile behind them, 
and they no longer oppressed him with that quality of 
cruelty and certain triumph. Now they only denoted 
failure and disappointment, and, as his high tension 
relaxed, he began to laugh. 

“Stop it, Paul! Stop it!’^ said the shiftless one 
sharply. “It’s too soon yet to laugh! When the time 
comes I’ll tell you!” 

Paul checked himself, knowdng that the laugh was 
partly hysterical, and closely followed Henry who was 
now turning toward the west, leading them through 
rolling country, clothed in the same unbroken forest 
an<4 undergrowth. It was his idea to find a creek or 
brook and then wade in it for a long distance to break 
the trail, the simplest of devices, one used a thousand 
times with success on the border, and they ran at their 
utmost speed, in order to be out of sight of even the 
swiftest warrior when they should come to water. 

They passed several tiny brooks too small for their 
purpose, but, in a half-hour, came to one two feet 
deep, flowing swiftly and with muddy current. Henry 
uttered a sigh of satisfaction as he stepped into the 
water, and began to run with the stream. He heard 
four splashes behind him, as the others stepped in also, 
and followed. 

“As little noise as you can,” he said. “There may 
be a lurking warrior about somewhere.” 

After the first hundred yards they waded slowly, 
in order to avoid more splashing, and, after another 
hundred, stopped to listen. They heard faint cries 


245 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


from the warriors, but they were very far away, at 
least a mile, they thought, and the hearts of every one 
of the five rose with the belief that the Indians had 
taken the wrong course. But they neglected no pre- 
caution, wading in the middle of the brook for a long 
distance, the water enclosed on either side with a thick 
and heavy growth of willows and bushes so dense, in 
truth, that one could not see into the stream without 
parting the foliage. 

“Didn’t I tell you we were lucky!” said Henry. 
“This branch poked itself right across our path at the 
right moment to help us break our trail.” 

“Jedgment, Henry! Jedgment!” said the shiftless 
one. “We knowed that it wuz best fur us to find a 
branch, an’ so we jest run on till we found one.” 

“It ’pears to me,” said Long Jim, “that we’re takin’ 
to water a heap. Always jumpin’ into some branch 
or creek or river an’ wadin’, I feel myself turnin’ to 
a fish, a great big long catfish sech as you find in the 
Ohio. Fins are cornin’ out on my ankles right now.” 

“An’ your face is plum’ covered with scales already,” 
said Shif’less Sol. “You’re shorely a wonder, Jim.” 

Long Jim involuntarily clapped his hand to his face, 
and then both laughed. 

“At any rate,” said Long Jim, “I’ll be glad when 
we take to dry ground ag’in.” 

But Henry led them a full mile, until he parted the 
bushes, and stepped out on the west bank. The others 
followed and all five stood a moment or two on the 
bank, while the water dripped from their leggings. 

“Them fins has done growed on me, shore,” 

246 


ON THE GREAT TRAIL 


whispered Long- Jim to Shi f ’less Sol. “Cur’us how 
water sticks to deerskin.” 

“How much further do we go, Henry ?” asked Paul. 

“Far enough to be safe,” replied Henry. “I think 
two or three miles more will put us out of their 
range. The walking won’t be bad, and it will help 
to dry our leggings.” 

“Wish I had one o’ their bosses to ride on,” said 
Shif’less Sol. “’Twould jest suit me, a lazy man. 
I guess bosses wuzn’t ever used in these parts afore, 
but I’d ride one like the old knights that Paul talks 
about, an’ you. Long Jim, could hang on to the 
tail.” 

“I wouldn’t hang on to the tail of nobody’s boss, 
an’ least uv all to the tail uv yourn, Sol Hyde.” 

“You’d hev to, Jim Hart, ’cause you’d be my serf. 
Knights always had serfs that wuz glad to hang on 
to the tails o’ their bosses, when the knights would let 
’em. Wouldn’t I look grand, chargin’ through the 
forest on my war boss, six feet high, me in my best 
Sunday brass suit, speckled with gold scales, with 
my silver spear twenty feet long, an’ my great two- 
handed, gold-hiked sword beside me, an’ long Jim tied 
to the tail o’ my boss, so he wouldn’t git tired an’ 
fall behind, when I wuz chargin’ the hull Shawnee 
tribe?” 

“ You’ll never see that day, Sol Hyde. When we 
charge the Shawnee tribe I’ll be in front, runnin’ on 
these long legs uv mine, an’ you’ll be ’bout a hundred 
yards behind, cornin’ on in a kinder doubtful an’ hesi- 
tatin’ way.” 


247 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


“Here i^s good dry ground now/’ said Henry, “and 
I don’t tliink we need to go any farther.” 

They were on a small hilltop, densely covered with 
trees, and the five gladly threw themselves down 
among the trunks. They were sure now that they 
were safe from pursuit, and they felt elation, but they 
said little. All of them took off their wet leggings and 
moccasins, and laid them out to dry, while they rested 
and ate venison. 

“I’m gittin’ tired, paddlin’ ’roun’ in wet clothes,” 
said Long Jim, “and I hope them things uv mine will 
dry fast, ’cause it would be bad to hev to run fur it 
ag’in, b’ar-footed this time, an’ with not much of any- 
thin’ on up to your waist.” 

“But think how much harder on you it would be 
ef it wuz winter,” said the shiftless one. “Ef you hed 
to break the ice in the branch ez you walked along it, 
an’ then when you come out hed nothin’ but the snow 
to lay down in an’ rest, it would be time fur complain- 
in’. Ez Henry says, we’re shorely hevin’ luck.” 

“That’s true, an’ we’ve found another fine inn to 
rest an’ sleep in. Ain’t this nice solid dry groun’? 
An’ them dead leaves scattered ’bout which we kin 
rake up fur pillows an’ beds, are jest the finest that 
ever fell. An’ them trees are jest ez big an’ honest 
an’ friendly ez you could ask, an’ the bushes are nice 
an’ well behaved, an’ thar shore is plenty of water in 
the forest fur us to drink. An’ we hev a good clean sky 
overhead. Oh, we couldn’t come to a nicer inn than 
this.” 

"I’m going to sleep,” said Paul. "I’m going to 
248 


ON THE GREAT TRAIL 


wrap my blanket around the lower half of me, and if 
the warriors come please wake me in time, so I can 
put on my leggings before I have to run again/' 

All soon slept save Henry and Ross, and, after a 
while, Henry clothed himself fully, everything now 
being dry, and with a word to Ross, started eastward 
through the forest. He believed that Blackstaffe, Red 
Eagle and their party were somewhere in that direc- 
tion, and he meant to have a look at them. He was 
thoroughly refreshed by their long rest, and alone he 
felt able to avoid any danger. 

He advanced through the forest, a great flitting 
figure that passed swiftly, and now, that he was the 
trailer and not the trailed, all of his marvelous facul- 
ties were at their zenith. He heard and saw every- 
thing, and every odor came to him. The overwhelm- 
ing sense of freedom, and of a capacity to achieve the 
impossible, which he often felt when he was alone, 
fairly poured in upon him. The feeling of success, of 
conquest, was strong. He and his comrades, so far, 
had triumphed over every difficulty, and they had been 
many and great. The omens were propitious and there 
was the rising wind singing among the leaves the 
song that was always a chant of victory for him. 

He inhaled the odors of the forest, the breath of 
leaf and flower. They were keen and poignant to 
him, and then came another odor that did not belong 
there. It was brought on the edge of the gentle wind, 
and his nostrils expanded, as he noticed that it was 
growing stronger and stronger. He knew at once that 
it was smoke, distant, but smoke undeniably, and that 


249 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


it must come from a campfire. In all probability it 
was the fire of Blackstaffe, Red Eagle and their band. 

He went at once toward the smoke, and gradually 
the light of a fire appeared among the trees. Approach- 
ing cautiously, he saw the correctness of his surmise 
that it was Blackstaffe, Red Eagle and their band. 
Most of the warriors were lying down, all save two 
or three asleep, but the renegade and the chief were 
talking earnestly. Henry was eager to hear what they 
were saying, as it might prove of great value to him 
in the little campaign that he was leading. Since 
Wyatt and the rest of the band had not had time to 
come up, they could not yet know that it was the five 
with whom they had been in battle that night. 

He resolved that he would overhear them at all 
costs, and lying down in the bushes he began to edge 
himself forward in the slow and difficult manner of 
which only an accomplished scout is capable. Fortun- 
ately the fire was near the edge of a thicket, from 
which he could hear, but it took him a long time to 
gain the position he wished, creeping forward, inch 
by inch, and careful not to make a bush or a leaf rustle. 

When he was at last in place, he lay hidden by the 
foliage and blended with it, where he could easily see 
the faces of Blackstaffe and Red Eagle, in the fire- 
light, and hear what they said. 


CHAPTER XIII 


FIVE AGAINST A THOUSAND 

R ed eagle and Blackstaffe were talking in 
Shawnee, every word of which Henry heard 
and understood. They sat in Turkish fashion 
upon the ground, on the same side of the fire, and the 
blaze flickered redly over the face of each. They were 
strong faces, primitive, fierce and cunning, but in 
different ways. The evil fame of Moses Blackstaffe, 
second only to that of Simon Girty, had been won by 
many a ruthless deed and undoubted skill and cunning. 
Yet he was a white man who had departed from the 
white man's ways. 

Red Eagle, the great Shawnee chief, was older, past 
fifty, and his bronzed face was lined deeply. His broad 
brow and the eyes set wide apart, expressed intellect — 
the Indian often had intellect in a high degree. He 
too was cruel, able to look upon the unmentionable 
tortures of his foes with pleasure, but it was a cruelty 
that was a part of his inheritance, the common prac- 
tices of all the tribes, bred into the blood, through 
untold generations of forest life. 

Henry felt a certain respect for Red Eagle, but none 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


at all for Blackstaffe. Him he hated, with that fierce- 
ness of the forest, some of which had crept into his 
blood, and if he met him in battle he would gladly 
send a bullet through his heart. The man’s face, burnt 
almost as dark as that of an Indian, showed now in its 
most sinister aspect. He was sufYering from chagrin, 
and he did not take the trouble to hide it, even from 
so great a man as Red Eagle, head chief of the 
Shawnees. 

They were talking of Wyatt and the band they 
had left behind for the siege, and Henry, with a touch 
of forest humor, enjoyed himself as he listened. 

“We did not see well those with whom we fought 
tonight and who escaped us,” said Red Eagle, “but 
they showed themselves to be warriors, great white 
warriors. They were more than a match for my young 
men.” 

“It is true,” said Blackstaffe. “I didn’t see them at 
all, but only the five whom we left besieged in the cave 
could do what they did.” 

“But Wyatt and good warriors hold them there.” 

“So they hoped, but do they, Red Eagle? The 
manner in which those scouts escaped from our circle 
makes me believe their leader could have been none but 
this Henry Ware.” 

“One of them was outside the cave. He may have 
come through the forest and have met other white 
men.” 

“It might be so, but I’m afraid it isn’t. They have 
broken the siege in some manner and have eluded 
Wyatt. I had hoped that if he could not kill or cap- 

252 


FIVE AGAINST A THOUSAND 


ture them he would at least hold them there. It is 
not well for us to have them hanging upon our arm)^ 
and ambushing the warriors.’’ 

“You speak wisely, Blackstaffe. The one they call 
Ware is only a youth, but he is full of wisdom and 
bravery. There was an affair of the belt bearers, in 
which he tricked even Yellow Panther and myvSelf. 
If we could capture him and make him become one 
of us, a red warrior to fight the white people to whom 
he once belonged, he would add much to our strength 
in war.” 

Blackstaffe shook his head most emphatically. 

“Don’t think of that again, great chief,” he said. 
“It is a waste of time. He would endure the most 
terrible of all our tortures first. Think instead of his 
scalp hanging in your wigwam.” 

The eyes of Red Eagle glistened. 

“It would be a great triumph,” he said, “but our 
young men have chased him many times, and always 
he is gone like the deer. We have set the trap for him 
often, but when it falls he is away. None shoots so 
quickly or so true as he, and if one of our young men 
meets him alone in the forest it is the Shawnee over 
whom the birds sing the death song.” 

“It’s not his scalp that we want merely for the 
scalp’s sake. You are a brave and great chief, O Red 
Eagle, and you know that Ware and his comrades are 
scouts, spies and messengers. It’s not so much the 
warriors whom we lose at their hands, but theyTe the 
eyes of the woods. They always tell the settlements of 
our coming, and bring the white forces together. We 


253 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


must trap them on this march, if we have to spread out 
a belt of a hundred warriors to do it/' 

‘T hope the net won't have any holes in it. We over- 
take the great band tomorrow, and then you'll have all 
the warriors you need. They can be spread out on 
the flank as we march. Hark, Red Eagle, what was 
that?" 

Henry himself in his covert started a little, as the 
long whine of a wolf came from a point far behind 
them. One of the warriors on the other side of the 
fire returned the cry, so piercing and ferocious in its 
note that Henry started again. But as the chief, the 
renegade and all the warriors rose to their feet, he 
withdrew somewhat further into the thicket, yet re- 
maining where he could see all that might pass. 

The far wolf howled again, and the near wolf re- 
plied. After that followed a long silence, with the 
renegade. Red Eagle and his men, standing waiting 
and eager. The signals showed that friends were 
coming to join friends, and Henry was as eager as they 
to see the arrivals. Yet he had a shrewd suspicion of 
their identity. 

Dusky figures showed presently among the trees, as 
a silent line came on. Red Eagle and Blackstaffe were 
standing side by side, and the renegade broke into a 
low laugh. 

‘^So Wyatt comes with his men, or most of them," 
he said. 

“I see," said the chief in a tone of chagrin. 

‘‘And he comes without any prisoners." 

“But perhaps he brings scalps." 


254 


FIVE AGAINST A THOUSAND 


‘T see no sign of them.” 
is yet too far.” 

‘‘If they came bearing scalps they would raise the 
shout of victory.” 

Red Eagle, great chief of the Shawnees, shook his 
head sadly. 

“It is sure that those whom we pursued in vain 
tonight were those whom we left besieged in the cave.” 

“I fear that you speak the truth. They bring ho 
scalps, nor any prisoners to walk on red hot coals.” 

He spoke sadly and Henry noted a certain grim 
pathos in his words, which were the words of a savage. 
Yet the attitude of Red Eagle was dignified and ma- 
jestic as he waited. 

The file came on fast, Braxton Wyatt at its head. 
When the younger renegade reached the fire, he flung 
himself down beside it, seized a piece of deer meat, 
just cooked, and began to eat. 

“I’m famished and worn out,” he said. 

“What did you do with the scalps, Braxton ?” asked 
Blackstaffe, in silky tones — it may be that he thought 
the younger renegade assumed too much at times. 

“They’re on the heads of their owners,” growled 
Wyatt. 

“And how did that happen ? You had them securely 
blockaded in a hole in a stone wall. I thought you 
had nothing to do but wait and take them.” 

“See here, Blackstaffe, I don’t care for your taunt- 
ing. They slipped out, although we kept the closest 
watch possible, and as they passed they slew one of 
our best warriors. I don’t know how it was managed, 


255 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


but I think it was some infernal trick of that fellow 
Ware. Anyway, we were left with an empty cave, 
and then we came on as fast as we could. We did our 
best, and Fve no excuses to make.'’ 

“I do not mock you," said Red Eagle gravely. 'T 
have been tricked by the fox. Ware, myself, and so has 
Yellow Panther, the head chief of the Miamis. But 
we will catch him yet." 

^ “It seems that we have not yet made any net that 
will hold him," said Blackstaffe with grim irony. 
Since it was not he directly, but Red Eagle and Wyatt 
who had failed, he found a malicious humor in taunt- 
ing them. “It is the general belief that it was this 
same youth, Ware, who blew up the scows on which 
we were to carry our cannon, and then sank the lashed 
canoes. He seems to be uncommonly efficient." 

Among the broken men and criminals who fled into 
the woods joining the Indians and making war upon 
their own kind, Moses Blackstaffe was an outstanding 
character. He was a man of education and subtle 
mind. It was understood that he came from one of 
the oldest of the eastern provinces, and that there was 
innocent blood on his hands before he fled. But now 
he was high in the councils of the Indian nations, and, 
like the white man of his type who turns savage, he 
had become more cruel than the savages themselves. 

His gaze as he turned it upon Braxton Wyatt was 
lightly ironical, and his tone had been the same. 
Again the younger renegade flushed through his tan. 

“I have never denied to him wonderful knowledge 
and skill," he said. “I have warned you all that he 

256 


' FIVE AGAINST A THOUSAND 

I 

was the obstacle most to be dreaded. He has just 
proved it. Had he not been there to help ’em at the 
cave we should have got ’em all.” 

“And they are giving the laurels of Shif’less Sol 
to me,” said Henry to himself in the thicket. “I shall 
have to hand them over to him when we go back.” 

But the great Shawnee chief, Red Eagle, had heard 
enough talk between the two white men. He was full 
of the wisdom of his race, and he did not intend that 
Blackstaffe and Wyatt should impair their value to the 
tribes by creating ill feeling against each other. 

“Peace, my sons,” he said in his grave and dignified 
manner. “It is not well for those who march with us 
to taunt each other. Words that may be light in the 
village, breed ill wdll on the war path. As head chief 
of the Shawnees it is for me to say these things to 
you.” 

As Red Eagle stood up with his arms folded across 
his broad breast and his scarlet blanket hooked over 
his shoulder, he looked like a forest Roman. Henry 
thought him an impressive figure and such a thought, 
too, was most likely in the mind of Blackstaffe, as he 
said : 

“The words of the chief are wise, and I obey. Red 
Eagle has proved many and many a time that he is 
the best fitted of all men to be the head chief of the 
Shawnees. Wyatt, I was only jesting. You and I 
must be good comrades here.” 

He held out his hand and as Wyatt took it, his fa( 
cleared. Then the three turned to animated talk abr 
their plans. It was agreed that they should pus' 


257 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


in the morning at all speed, and join the main band 
and the artillery. Dangerous as these cannon were, 
Henry saw that the Indians gave them almost magic 
powers. They would completely blow away the 
settlements, and the forests would soon grow again, 
where the white man had cut a little open place for 
himself with the ax. 

The conference over. Red Eagle wrapped himself 
in his blanket and lay down with his feet toward the 
fire. Again Henry felt an impulse of respect for him. 
He was true to his race and his inheritance, while the 
renegades were false in everything to theirs. He did 
not depart from the customs and thoughts bred into 
him by many generations, but the renegades violated 
every teaching of their own race that had brought civil- 
ization to the world, and he hated and despised them. 

He saw Blackstaffe and Wyatt wrap themselves in 
their blankets and also lie down with their feet to the 
fire. All the Indians were at rest save two sentinels. 
Henry watched this strange scene a few minutes 
longer. The coals were dying fast and now he saw 
but indistinctly the figures of white men and red men, 
joined in a compact to destroy his people utterly, from 
the oldest man and woman to the youngest child. 

Henry did not know it, but he was as much a knight 
of chivalry and romance as any mailed figure that ever 
rode with glittering lance. Beneath the buckskin hunt- 
ing shirt beat a heart as dauntless as that of Amadis 
* Gaul or Palmerin of England, although there were 
bards in the great forest to sing of his deeds and of 
eeds of those like him. 


258 


FIVE AGAINST A THOUSAND 


He intended to stay only two or three minutes 
longer, but he lingered nevertheless. The Indian 
campfire gave forth hardly a glimmer. The figures 
save those of the sentinels became invisible. The wind 
blew gently and sang among the leaves, as if the forest 
were always a forest of peace, although from time 
immemorial, throughout the world, it had been stained 
by bloodshed. But the forest spell which came over 
him at times was upon him now. The rippling of the 
leaves under the wind he translated into words, and 
once more they sang to him the song of success. 

This new task of his, straight through the heart of 
danger, had been achieved, and in his modesty, which 
was a modesty of thought as well as word, he did not 
ascribe it to any strength or skill in himself, but to 
the fact that a Supreme Being had chosen him for a 
time as an instrument, and was working through him. 
Like nearly all who live in the forest and spend most 
of their lives in the presence of nature, he invariably 
felt the power of invisible forces, directed by an om- 
niscient and omnipotent mind, which the Indian has 
crystallized into the name Manitou, the same as God 
to Henry. 

For that reason this forest spell was also the spirit 
of thankfulness. He had been guided and directed so 
far, and he felt that the guidance and direction would 
continue. All the omens and prophecies remained 
good, and, with the wind in the leaves still singing the 
song of victory in his ears, he silently crept away, inch 
by inch, even as he had come. Well beyond the Indian 
ear, he rose and returned swiftly to his comrades. 


259 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


Ross was still on guard and the others sleeping when 
Henry’s figure appeared through the dusk, but they 
awoke and sat up when he called, low, to them. 

“What are you wakin’ us up fur, Henry ?” asked the 
shiftless one, as he rubbed a sleepy eye. “Are the 
warriors cornin’ ? Ef so, I’d like to put on my silk 
knee breeches, an’ my bee-yu-ti-ful new silk stockin’s 
an’ my new shoes with the big silver buckles, afore I 
run through the forest fur my life.” 

“No, they’re not coming, Sol,” said Henry. 
“They’re asleep off there and tomorrow morning 
Blackstaffe, Braxton Wyatt, Red Eagle and the others 
hurry on to join the main band.” * 

“How do you know that, Henry?” 

“They told me.” 

“You’ve been settin’ laughin’ an’ talkin’ with ’em, 
right merry, I reckon.” 

“They told me, just as I said. They told me their 
plan in good plain Shawnee.” 

“An’ how come Braxton Wyatt with Red Eagle and 
Blackstaffe ?” 

“Ltaving a fruitless quest, he overtook them. I was 
lying in the thicket, in hearing distance, when Wyatt 
came up with his men, joined Blackstaffe and Red 
Eagle, and had to tell them of his failure.” 

“You shorely do hev all the luck, Henry. I’d hev 
risked my life an’ risked it mighty close, to hev seed 
that scene.” 

Then Henry told them more in detail of the meet- 
ing and of the plans that Red Eagle and the two 
renegades had talked over, drawing particular atten- 


260 


FIVE AGAINST A THOUSAND 


tion to the net the Indians intended to spread for the 
five. 

“ Tears to me/’ said Shif’less Sol, “that the right 
thing fur us to do is to make a big curve — we’re hefty 
on curves — an’ go clear /roun’ in front of the band. 
They’ll be lookin’ fur us everywhere, ’cept right thar, 
an’ while they’re a-plottin’ an’ a-plannin’ an’ a-spread- 
in’ out their nets, we’ll be a-plottin’ an’ a-plannin’ an’ 
mebbe a-doin’ too what we’ve undertook to do.” 

“The very thing,” said Henry. 

“A true strategic march,” said Paul. 

“Looks like sense,” said Silent Tom. 

“You do hev ''ays o’ reason at times, Sol,” said Long 
Jim. 

“Then it’s agreed,” said Henry. We’ll take a little 
more rest, and, soon after daylight, we’ll start on one 
of our great flying marches.” 

Paul and Long Jim kept the watch, and, not long 
after the sun rose, they were up and away again. They 
were now beginning to forge another link in their 
chain, and, as usual, the spirits of all five rose when 
they began a fresh enterprise. Their feet were light, 
as they sped forward, and every sense was acute. They 
were without fear as they marched on the arc of the 
great circle that they had planned. They were leaving 
so wide a space between themselves and the great trail 
that they could only meet a wandering Indian hunter 
or two, and of all such they could take care easily. 

In truth, so free were they from any kind of appre- 
hension, that plenty of room was left in their minds 
to take note of the wilderness, which was here new 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


to them. But it was their wilderness, nevertheless, all 
these fine streams and rolling hills, and deer that 
sprang up from their path, and the magnificent forest 
everywhere clothing the earth in its beautiful robe of 
deepest green, which in the autumn would be an 
equally beautiful robe of red and yellow and brown. 

Their curve was toward the west, and all that day 
they followed it. They saw the golden sun go creep- 
ing up the blue arch of the heavens, hang for a while 
at the zenith, as if it were poised there to pour down 
perpendicular beams, and then go sliding slowly down 
the western sky to be lost in a red sea of fire. And the 
view of all the glory of the world, though they saw it 
every day, was fresh and keen to them all. The shift- 
less one was moved to speech. 

“When I go off to some other planet,'' he said, “I 
don't want any new kind o' a world. I want it to be 
like this with big rivers and middle-sized rivers and 
little rivers, all kinds o' streams an' lakes, and the 
woods, green in the spring an' red an' yellow in the 
fall, an' winter, too, which hez its beauties with snow 
an' ice, an' red roarin' fires to keep you warm, an' the 
deer an' the buff ler to hunt. I want them things 'cause 
I'm used to 'em. A strange, new kind o' world wouldn't 
please me. I hold with the Injuns that want to go to 
the Happy Huntin' Grounds, an' I 'xpect it's the kind 
o' Heaven that the Book means fur fellers like me." 

“Do you think you're good enough to go to Heaven, 
Sol?" asked Long Jim. 

The shiftless one deliberated a moment and then 
replied thoughtfully : 


262 


FIVE AGAINST A THOUSAND 


“I ain^t so good, Jim, but I reckon I’m good enough 
to go to Heaven. People bein’ what people be, an’ me 
bein’ what I am, all with a pow’ful lot to fight ag’inst 
an’ born with somethin’ o’ the old Nick in us, an’ not 
bein’ able to change our naturs much, no matter how 
hard we try, I reckon I hev a mighty fine chance o’ 
Heaven, which, ez I said, I want to be a world, right 
smart like this, only a heap bigger an’ finer. But I 
don’t mean to go thar for seventy or eighty years yet, 
’cause I want to give this earth a real fa’r trial.” 

In which the shiftless one had his wish, as he lived 
to be a hundred, and his eyes were clear and his voice 
strong to the last. 

^‘That’s a mighty fine picture you draw, Sol,” said 
Ia)ng Jim, appreciatively, ‘*an’ if you’re up thar settin’ 
on the bank uv a river that looks plum’ like runnin’ 
silver with green trees a thousand feet high risin’ 
behind you, you ketchin’ fish thirty or forty feet long, 
an’ ef you should happen to turn an’ look ’roun’ an’ 
see cornin’ toward you a long-legged ornery feller that 
you used ter cahoot with in the wilderness on both 
sides uv the Ohio, would you rise up, drop them big 
fish an’ your fishin’ pole, come straight between the 
trunks uv them green trees a thousand feet high 
toward that ornery lookin’ long-legged feller what wuz 
new to the place, stretch out your right hand to him, 
an’ say : ‘Welcome to Heaven Long Jim Hart. Come 
right in an’ make yourself to home, ’cause you’re goin’ 
to live with us a million an’ a billion years, an’ all the 
rest uv the time thar is. Your fishin’ pole is down 
thar by the bank. I’ve been savin’ it fur you. Henry 

263 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


is ’bout a mile farther up the stream pullin’ in a whale 
two hundred feet long that he’s had his eye on fur 
some time. Paul is down thar, settin’ under a bush 
readin’ a book uv gold letters on silver paper with 
diamonds set in the cover, an’ Tom Ross is on that 
hill, ’way acrost yonder, lookin’ at a herd uv buff’ler 
fifty miles wide which hez been travelin’ past fur a 
month.’ Now, Sol, would you give your old pardner 
that kind uv a welcome ?” 

“Would I Jim? You know I would. I’d blow on 
a trumpet an’ call all the boys straight from what they 
wuz doin’ to come a-runnin’ an’ meet you. An’ I’d 
interduce you to all our new friends. An’ I’d show 
you the best huntin’ grounds an’ the finest fishin’ holes 
right away, an’ when night come all o’ us with our new 
friends would hev a big feast an’ celebration over you. 
An’ all o’ us thar in Heaven that knowed you, Jim, 
would be right proud o’ you.” 

“I knowed that you’d take me right in, Sol,” said 
Long Jim, as they shook hands over the future. 

“Now for the night,” said Henry. “We must be at 
least fifteen miles west of the great trail, and as the 
woods are so full of game I don’t think any of the 
Indian hunters will find it necessary to come this far 
for it. So, I propose that we have a little warm food 
ourselves. We need it by this time.” 

“That’s the talk,” said Long Jim. “It would be jest 
a taste uv Heaven right now. What wuz you thinkin’ 
to hev fur our supper table, Henry?” 

“I had an idea that all of us would like turkey. I’ve 
been noticing turkey signs for some time, and there, 

264 


FIVE AGAINST A THOUSAND 


Jim! don’t you hear that gobbling away off to the 
right? They’re settling into the trees for the night, 
and it should be easy to get a couple. Just now I 
think turkey would be the finest thing in the world.” 

‘T’ve a mighty strong hankerin’ after turkey myself 
an’ the way I kin cook turkey is a caution to sinners. 
Ever since you said turkeys a half minute ago, Henry,, 
I’m famishin’. Bring on your turkey, the cook’s, 
ready.” 

‘‘Me an’ Sol will go an’ git ’em,” said Tom Ross, 
and the two slipped away in the twilight toward the 
sound of the gobbling. Presently they heard two shots 
and then the hunters came back, each with a fat bird. 
Selecting a dip from which flames could be seen only a 
little distance, they dressed the turkeys in frontier 
fashion and Long Jim, his culinary pride strong within 
him, cooked them to a turn. Then they ate long, and 
were unashamed. 

^‘Jest a touch o’ Heaven right now,” said Shif’less 
Sol, in tones of deep conviction. “This is the healthy 
life here, an’ it makes a feller jump when he oughter 
jump. Me bein’ a naterally lazy man. I’d be likely to 
lay ’roun’ an’ eat myself so fat I couldn’t walk, but the 
Injun’s don’t give me time. Jest when I begin to put on 
flesh they take after me an’ I run it all off. You 
wouldn’t think it, but Injuns has their uses, arter 
all.” 

“Keep people from cornin’ out here too fast,” said 
Ross. “Think they wuz put in the wilderness to save 
it, an’ they will, long after my time.” 

“Why, Tom,” said the shiftless one, “you’re be- 

265 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 

cornin’ real talkative. I think that’s the longest speech 
I ever heard you make.” 

“Tom is certainly growing garrulous,” said Paul. 

Silent Tom blushed despite his tan. 

“I’m through, anyway,” he said. 

“Guess Sol thought Tom wuz takin’ part uv his 
time,” said Long Jim Hart. “That’s why he spoke 
up. Sol claims all uv his own time fur talkin’, all uv 
Tom’s, an’ all the rest that may be left over by any 
UV us/’ 

“Mighty little you ever leave over, Jim,” said the 
shiftless one. “Besides, there’s a dif’rence between 
you an’ me talkin’. When I talk I’m always sayin’ 
somethin’ ; but yourn is jest a runnin’ gabble, like the 
flowin’ uv a creek, always the same an’ meanin’ 
nothin’.” 

“Well,” said Henry, “we’ve had plenty of good fat 
turkey, an’ it was cooked mighty fine, in Long Jim’s 
best style, but there’s some left, which I think we’d 
better pack in our knapsacks for tomorrow.” 

After putting away the food for a later need, they 
carefully smothered the last coal of the fire, and then, 
as a precaution, should the flame have been seen by 
any wandering warrior, they moved a mile farther 
west and sat down in a little hollow where they re- 
mained until well past midnight, all sleeping save a 
guard of one, turns being taken. About two o’clock 
in the morning they started again, traveling at great 
speed, and did not stop until noon of the next day. 
They delayed only a half-hour for food, water and 
rest, and pressed on at the long, running walk of the 


266 


FIVE AGAINST A THOUSAND 


border that put miles behind them at an amazing rate. 

Late in the afternoon they came to high hills 
clothed, like the rest of the country, in magnificent 
forest, and, while the others watched below, Henry 
climbed the tallest tree that he could find. The sun 
was declining, but the east was yet brilliant, and he 
saw faintly across it a dark line that he had expected. 
The great Indian camp surely lay at the base of the 
dark line, and when he descended he and his comrades 
began to curve toward the east. 

Morning would find them ahead of the Indian army, 
and between it and the settlements. Every one of 
them felt a thrill of excitement, even elation. The 
forging of the new link in the chain was proceeding 
'ivell, and brilliant success gives wonderful encourage- 
ment. They did not know just what they would do 
next, but four trusted to the intuition and prowess of 
their daring young leader. 

Their minds were at such high tension that they did 
not sleep much that night, and when dawn came again 
they had traveled so far that they calculated they had 
arrived at the right point of the circle. It was a ques- 
tion, however, that could be decided easily. Henry 
again climbed the highest tree in the vicinity, and look- 
ing toward the north now saw the smoke of the same 
campfire apparently three or four miles away. 

“Are they thar, Henry?'' asked Shif’less Sol, as he 
climbed down. 

“Yes. They haven't moved since sundown yester- 
day, and I judge they're in no hurry. I fancy the 
warriors suppose the cannon can easily secure them 

267 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 

the victory, no matter how much we may prepare 
against them, and the Englishmen are probably weary 
from hard traveling through the forest/’ 

‘‘I guess all that’s true, but they’ll shorely start in 
an hour or two anyway, an’ then what are we to do to 
stop ’em?” 

The eyes of the great youth filled with sudden fire, 

“We’re five against a thousand,” he said. “We’ve 
rifles against cannon, but we can do something. We’re 
coming to the edge of a country that I know. Three 
miles to the south of us is a river or deep creek that 
can’t be waded, except at a place between two hills. 
The Indians know that ford, and so they’ll make for it. 
We’ll be on the other side, and we’ll hold the ford.” 

The others stared at him. 

“Henry,” exclaimed Paul, “you just said that we 
were five against a thousand, and rifles against cannon, 
now how could we possibly hold the ford against such 
an army? Besides, the Indian warriors, by scores, could 
swim the river elsewhere, and flank us on either side.” 

“I don’t mean that we shall hold it a long time. 
We’ll make ’em give battle, stop ’em for a while, and 
then, when the flankers swim the stream we’ll be gone. 
We will not let ourselves be seen, and they may think 
it a large force, retiring merely because their own army 
is larger.” 

“That is, we’ve got to give ’em a skeer,” said Long 
Jim. 

“Exactly. We want to make those Indians think 
that Manitou is against ’em. We want to sow in their 
minds the seeds of fear and superstition. You know 


268 


FIVE AGAINST A THOUSAND 


how they’re influenced by omens and things they can’t 
understand. If we give ’em a brisk little fight at the 
ford, and then get away, unseen, it will set them to 
doubting, and plant in their minds the fear of ambush 
by large forces.” 

The face of the shiftless one shone. 

“That suits me clean down to the ground,” he said. 
“It’s wile an’ stratagem which I like. Lead on to this 
ford, Henry, an’ we’ll lay down an’ rest beside it till 
they come up.” 

The others showed as much enthusiasm, and, care- 
fully hiding their trail, they reached the ford, which 
they found highly favorable to their purpose. Save 
here the banks of the river were high on both sides, 
and the gorge, through which the red army with its 
cannon and wagons must approach the ford, was not 
more than twenty feet wide. On both banks the forest 
was unbroken and there were many dense thickets. 

“This place was shorely made fur an ambush,” said 
the shiftless one as they waded across. “Ef we had a 
hundred good men we could turn back their whole 
army for good, ’cause they can’t flank so easy, ez them 
high banks on both sides run ez fur ez I kin see.” 

“And here is the thicket in which we can lie,” said 
Paul. 

“They can’t catch a glimpse of us from the other 
side. They can see only the fire and smoke of our 
rifles,” said Henry. 

“An’ since we’re here in our nest,” said Shi f ’less 
Sol, “we’d better set still an’ rest till they come up., 
I ’low we’ll need all our strength an’ nerves then.” 

269 


CHAPTER XIV 


HOLDING THE FORD 

T he five lay down in the thicket, completely 
hidden themselves, but commanding a splendid 
view of the deep, clear stream and the gorge by 
which the red army must approach. They were calm 
in manner, nevertheless their hearts were beating high. 
The sunshine was so brilliant that every object was 
distinct far up the gorge, and Henry felt sure the 
Indian army would come into sight, while it was yet 
beyond rifle shot. Nor were the leaders likely to send 
forward scouts and skirmishers, as they apprehended 
no danger in front. It was on their flank or rear that 
they expected the five to hang. 

The five did not speak and the silence was complete, 
save for the usual noises of the forest. Birds chattered 
overhead. Little animals rustled now and then in the 
thickets, fish leaped in the river, but there was no sound 
to indicate that man was near. They were not nervous 
nor restless. Inured to danger, waiting had become 
almost a mechanical act, and they were able to lie per - 
fectly still, however long the time might be. 

They saw the column of smoke fade, and then go 


270 


HOLDING THE FORD 


quite away. There was not a fleck on the sky of blaz- 
ing blue, and Henry knew that the red army had 
broken up its camp, and was on the march. He had a 
sudden fear that they might send ahead scouts and 
skirmishers, but reflection brought him back to his 
original belief that they would not do so, as they 
would not foresee the transference of the five to their 
front. 

The hours passed and Shif’less Sol, who had been 
lying flat upon the ground, raised his head. 

“I hear wheels,’' he said laconically. 

Henry put his own ear to the ground. 

“So do I,” he said. 

“Wheels of cannon and wagons.” 

“Beyond a doubt.” 

“Them that we’re lookin’ fur.” 

“There are no others in the wilderness. Long Jim, 
how’s your voice today?” 

“Never better, Henry. I could talk to a man a mile 
away. Why ?” 

“Because I may want you to give out some terrible 
yells soon, the white man’s yells, understand, and, as 
you give ’em, you’re to skip about like lightning from 
place to place. This is a case in which one man must 
seem to be a hundred.” 

“I understand, Henry,” said Long Jim proudly, 
tapping his chest. “I reckon I’m to be the Agger in 
this Aght, an’, bein’ ez so much is dependin’ on me, I 
won’t fail. My lungs wuz never better. I’ve had a 
new leather linin’ put inside ’em, an’ they kin work 
without stoppin’, day an’ night, fur a week.” 


271 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


‘‘All right, Jim. Do your proudest, and the others 
are to help, but yotvre to be the yell leader, and the 
better you yell the better it will be for all of us.^’ 

‘T’ll be right thar Henry.’’ 

‘‘They’ll soon be in sight,” said the shiftless one, 
who had not taken his ear from the ground. ‘T kin 
hear the wheels a-creakin’ and a-creakin’, louder an’ 
louder.” 

“And they have not sent forward anybody to spy 
out the country, which is better for us,” said Henry. 

“An’ now I kin hear somethin’ else,” said Shif’less 
Sol. “They’re singin’ a war song which ain’t usual 
Avhen so many are on the march, but they reckon 
they’ve got at least two or three hundred white scalps 
ez good ez took already.” 

Now the ferocious chant, sung in Shawnee, which 
they understood, came plainly to them. It was a song 
of anticipation, and when they translated it to them- 
selves it ran something like this: 

To the land of Kaintuckee we have come, 
Wielders of the bow and the tomahawk, we, 
Shawnee and Miami, Wyandot and Delaware 
Matchless in march and battle we come, 

Great is Manitou. 


The white man will fall like leaves before us, 
His houses to the fire we will give. 

All shall perish under our mighty blows, 
And the forest will grow over his home. 
Great is Manitou. 


272 


HOLDING THE FORD 


It went on in other verses, rising- above the creak of 
the wheels, a fierce, droning chant that drummed upon 
the nerves and inflamed the brain. Much of its power 
came from its persistency upon the same beat and 
theme, until the great chorus became like the howling 
of thousands of wolves for their prey. 

“Ef I couldn’t feel my scalp on my head right now,’* 
said Shifdess Sol, ‘T’d be shore that one o’ them de- 
mons out thar had it in his hands, whirlin’ it ’roun’ 
an’ ’roun’.” 

“Guess I won’t need nothin’ more to make me yell 
my very darndest,” said Long Jim. 

“They’ll be in sight in a minute or two,” said Paul, 
“and I’m truly thankful that we have ground so favor- 
able. We wouldn’t have a chance without it.” 

“That’s so,” said Henry, “and we must never lose 
our heads for a minute. If we do we’re gone.” 

“Anyway, surprise will be a help to us,” said Shif- 
less Sol, ’cause all the signs show that they don’t 
dream we’re here. But jest to ourselves, boys, I’m 
mighty glad that river is between us an’ them. Did 
you ever hear sech a war chant? Why, it freezes me 
right into the marrer!” 

“They’ve gone mad with triumph before they’ve 
won it,” said Henry. “They intoxicate themselves 
with singing and dancing. Look at those fellows on 
the outer edges of the line jumping up and down.” 

“An’ did you ever see savages more loaded down 
with war paint?” said Long Jim. “Why, I think it 
must be an inch thick on the faces uv them dancers 
an’ jumpers!” 


273 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


The forest, in truth, had beheld few sights as sinister 
as this Indian army advancing, keeping step to its 
ferocious chant. Henry saw Yellow Panther come 
into view, and then Red Eagle, and then the rumbling 
guns with their gunners, and then Blackstaffe and 
Wyatt, and then the English Colonel, Alloway, his 
second, Cartwright, and three or four more officers 
riding. After them came the caissons and the other 
ammunition wagons, and then more warriors, hun- 
dreds and hundeds, joining in that ferocious whining 
chorus. The red coats of the British officers lent a 
strange and incongruous touch to this scene of forest 
and savage warfare. 

I don’t like to shoot a white man from ambush,” 
said Henry, but I’d be perfectly willing to send a 
bullet through the head of that Colonel Alloway. It 
would help our people — save them, perhaps — because 
without the British the Indians can’t use the guns.” 

You won’t git a chance, Henry,” said Long Jim. 
*‘He’s too fur back. The warriors will come into range 
fust, an’ we’ll hev to open fire on ’em. I don’t see no 
signs of flankers turnin’ off from the crossin’.” 

“ No, they won’t send ’em up such high hills when 
they don’t think any enemies are near. Make ready, 
boys. The foremost warriors are now in range. I 
hate to shoot at red men, even, from ambush, but it 
has to be done.” 

Five muzzles were thrust forward in the bushes, and 
five pairs of keen eyes looked down the sights, as on 
came the chanting army, painted and horrible. The 
vanguard would soon be at the water. 


274 


HOLDING THE FORD 


‘‘ Be sure you don’t miss,” said Henry. ** The more 
deadly our first blow the better chance we have to 
win.” 

Every one of the five concentrated all his faculties 
upon his target. He saw or thought of nothing but 
the painted chest or face upon which he directed his 
aim. 

‘‘ Ready,” said Henry. 

Five gunlocks clicked. 

Fire!” 

Five triggers were pulled, and five streams of flame 
darted from the bushes. Never had the five aimed 
bullets to better purpose, since their targets, broad and 
close, lay before them. Five warriors flung up their 
arms, and uttering the death howl, fell. A tremendous 
yell of surprise and rage arose from the Indians, and 
they crowded back upon one another, appalled, for the 
moment, by the sudden and deadly messengers of 
death. 

** Now, Jim, now I” exclaimed Henry. “ Yell as 
if you were a thousand men. Run up and down in 
the bushes that your yells may come from point to 
point! Shout, man, shout!” 

Long Jim needed no command. His tremendous 
battle cry burst out, as he rushed back and forth in the 
thickets. It was some such shout as the old Vikings 
must have uttered, and it pealed out like the regular 
beat of a big drum. It expressed challenge and defi- 
ance, victory and revenge, and, tcf'the ears of the red 
hearers on the other shores, the thickets seemed fairly 
to swarm with fighting men. The four added their 


275 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


efforts to those of Long Jim, but their cries formed 
merely a chorus, above which swelled the thundering 
note of the forest Stentor. 

The cords in Long Jim’s throat swelled, his cheeks 
bulged, his eyes stood out, but his voice never broke. 
Without failing for an instant, it poured forth its 
mighty stream of challenge and invective, and the 
others, as they reloaded in all haste, looked at him with 
pride. It was their own Long Jim, he of the long legs 
and long throat, who had made many a great effort 
before, but none like this. 

The warriors had recoiled still further. Both Yel- 
low Panther and Red Eagle drew back in the ruck. 
The singing of the warriors ceased, and, with it, ceased 
the creaking wheels of the cannon and ammunition 
wagons. Henry saw Alloway and his officers stop, 
and he looked once more at the colonel, but it was too 
far for certainty, and they must not send forward any 
shots that missed. In front of the recoiling army lay 
five dark figures on the green, and they must continue 
with the deadliness of their fire to create the impres- 
sion of great numbers. 

Now boys ! ” exclaimed Henry. Again ! Steady 
and true. ! ” 

Five rifles cracked together and Long Jim, who had 
ceased only long enough to aim and pull the trigger 
resumed his terrific chant. This time three of the 
warriors were slain and two wounded. Henry, a true 
general, quickly changed the position of his army. 
Long Jim still shouting, and no missile from the fire 
poured out now by the Indians, touching them. A few 

276 


HOLDING THE FORD 


of the bullets entered the portion of the thicket where 
they had crouched, but the rest fell short. A great 
flight of arrows was sent forth, but the distance was 
too great for them, and with most of the bullets they 
fell splashing into the water. 

‘‘ Now, boys,'’ said Henry, ‘‘creep back and forth, 
and pick your warriors ! There’s plenty for all of us, 
and nobody need be jealous ! If you can get any of 
the white gunners so much the better ! ” 

And they responded with all the fire and skill and 
courage belonging to such forest knights, knights as 
brave and true and unselfish as any that ever trod the 
earth. Five against a thousand ! Young forest run- 
ners against an army ! Rifles against cannon they 
yet held the ford and flung terror into the hearts of 
their foes! Before that rain of death, and that thun- 
dering chorus of mighty voices, coming from many 
points, the warriors recoiled yet farther, and were 
stricken with superstitious dread by the sudden and 
mortal attack from an invisible foe. Even the face 
of Alloway, and he was brave enough, blanched. This 
was something beyond his reckoning, something of 
which no man would have dreamed, he was not used 
to the vast and sinister forest — sinister to him — ^and 
the invisible stroke appalled him. His courage soon 
came back, but he cursed fiercely under his breath, 
when he saw one of his gunners go down, shot through 
the heart, and a moment later another fall with a bul- 
let through his head. Like the Indians, he saw a 
numerous and powerful foe on the opposite bank, and 
the ford was narrow and steep. 


277 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


** They’re drawing back for a conference,” said 
Henry. ‘‘ I believe we’ve made ’em think we’re not a 
hundred only, but two hundred. Long Jim, your title 
as king of yellers is yours without dispute as long as 
you live. You’ve done magnificent work.” 

I think I did shout a little,” said Long Jim trium- 
phantly, ‘‘but Henry, I’m just plum’ empty uv air. 
Every bit uv it hez been drawled up from my lungs, 
an’ even from the end uv ev’ry toe an’ finger.” 

“ Well, sit down there, Jim, and refill yourself, be- 
cause we may have need of your lungs again. There’s 
no better air than that we find in the forest here, and 
you’ll have plenty of time, as they won’t be through 
with that conference yet for at least five minutes.” 

Henry saw the savages gathered in a great mass, 
well out of rifle shot, and, on a little hill back of them, 
the British officers, the renegades and the chiefs were 
talking earnestly. Beyond all possible doubt they 
had agreed that they were confronted by a formidable 
force. The proof of it lay before them. Valiant war- 
riors had fallen and the two slain gunners could not 
be replaced. Henry knew that it was a bitter surprise 
to them, and they must think that the settlers, hearing 
of the advance against them, had sent forward all the 
men they could raise to form the ambush at the ford. 

He was full of elation, and so were his comrades. 
Five against an army ! and the five had stopped the 
army! Rifles against cannon. And the rifles had 
stopped the cannon ! The two slain gunners were 
proof of an idea already in his mind, and now that 
idea enlarged automatically. They would continue to 


HOLDING THE FORD 


pick off the gunners. What were a few warriors slain 
out of a mass of a thousand ! But there were only 
seven or eigth gunners, no, five or six, because two 
were gone already ! He whispered to his comrades 
to shoot a gunner whenever there was a chance, and 
they nodded in approval. 

The conferences lasted some time, and the gorge in 
front of them was filled with savages, a great mass of 
men with tufted scalp locks, some bare to the waist, 
others wrapped in gaudy blue or red or yellow 
blankets, a restless, shifting mass, upon which the sun 
poured brilliant rays, lighting up the savage faces as 
if they were shot whh fire. It was a strange scene, 
buried in the green wood, one of the unknown battles 
that marked the march of the republic from sea to sea. 
As the five stared from their covert at the savage army 
the vivid colors were like those of shifting glass in a 
kaleidoscope. The whole began to seem unreal and 
fantastic, the stuff of dreams. To Paul, in particular, 
whose head held so much of the past, it was like some 
old tale out of the Odyssey, with Ulysses and his com- 
rades confronting a new danger in barbaric lands. 

‘‘ They're about to do something whispered the 
shiftless one. 

So I think," said Henry. 

The British officers, the renegades and the chiefs 
walked down from the mound. Among the savages 
arose a low hum which quickly swelled into a chant, 
and Henry interpreted it as a sign that they now ex- 
pected victory. How ! He wondered, but he did not 
wonder long. 

-79 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


“They’re goin’ to use the cannon,” said the shift- 
less one. 

It seemed strange to Henry that he had not thought 
of this before, but now that the danger was imminent 
his mind met it with ready resource. 

“ We must crawl into a hole, boys,” he said, “ and 
stay there while the cannon balls pass over us.” 

“ Here’s a gully,” said the shiftless one,” “ and it 
will hold us all.” 

“ The rest of you go into it,” said Henry. “ I’ve 
changed my mind about myself.” 

“ What are you thinking of ? ” asked Paul. 

“ Do you see that big tree growing further down the 
slope, a little closer to the river. It’s hidden to the 
boughs, by the bushes growing thick all around it, and 
above them the foliage of the tree is so heavy that 
nobody twenty yards away could see into it. I mean 
to climb up there and make it hot for those gunners. 
This rifle of mine will reach pretty far.” 

Henry had a beautiful long-barreled weapon, and 
the others, although knowing the danger, could say 
nothing in opposition. 

“Suppose we let them fire two or three shots first,” 
said Henry. “Then, as we make no reply, they may 
bring the cannon up closer.” 

Again four heads nodded in approval, and Henry, 
creeping forward through the bushes, climbed rapidly 
up the tree. Here, hidden as if by walls, he neverthe- 
less saw well. The gunners, helped by the Indians, 
were bringing forward both of the cannon. They were 
fine bronze guns, glistening in the sun, and their wide 


2S0 


HOLDING THE FORD 


mouths looked threatening. Spongers, rammers and 
the real gunners all stood by. 

Henry saw a twelve pound ball hoisted into each 
bronze throat, and then, as the gunners did their work, 
each mass of metal crashed through the thickets, the 
savages yelling in delight at the thunderous reports 
that came back, in echo after echo. There was no reply 
from the thickets, and they began to reload for the 
second discharge. Then Henry marked the gunner at 
the cannon on his right, and slowly the long muzzle of 
the beautiful blue steel barrel rose until it bore directly 
upon the man. Paul, from his position, could see 
Henry in the tree, and he was sorry for the gunner 
who was about to die there in the forest, four thousand 
miles from his native land, a good-natured soldier, per- 
haps, but sent by his superiors on an errand, the full 
character of which he did not understand. 

The sponger and rammer did their work. The shot 
was fired and the gunner leaned forward, looking 
eagerly at the dense woods and thickets to see what 
damage his shot had done. No reply came save a rifle 
shot, and the gunner fell dead upon his gun. Paul in 
the thickets shivered a little, but he knew that it must 
be done. 

The allied tribes again gave forth a whoop of rage 
and chagrin, and Henry from his place in the tree 
clearly saw Alloway, waving his sword and encourag- 
ing them. ‘Tf he would only come a little nearer,'' 
grimly thought the young forest runner, as he reloaded 
rapidly, ‘‘ he might by the loss of his own life save the 
lives of many others." But Alloway kept back. 


281 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


They were now making ready the second cannon, 
but as the rammer stepped forward the deadly marks- 
man in the tree reached him with his bullet, and, falling 
beside his gun, he lay quite still. Once more the thou- 
sand voices of the warriors joined in a terrible cry of 
wrath and menace, but the young forester reloaded 
calmly, and the sponger, smitten down, fell beside his 
comrade. 

Long Jim and the shiftless one, who lay side by 
side, gazed at the tree in silent admiration. They 
knew the ability of their comrade as a sharpshooter, 
but never before had he been so deadly at such long 
range. 

They’ll hev to draw them cannon back,” whispered 
Shif’less Sol, or he’ll pick off every one o’ the white 
men that manage ’em.” 

“Then I hope they won’t draw ’em back,” said Long 
Jim. 

But Alloway and the chiefs saw the necessity of 
taking the gun beyond rifle range, and they withdrew 
them quickly, although not quickly enough to keep 
another of the white men from receiving a painful 
wound. The savages discharged a volley from their 
rifles and muskets, and flights of arrows were sent into 
the thickets, but arrows and bullets alike fell short. 
Many of the arrows merely reached the river, and Paul 
found a curious pleasure in watching these feathered 
messengers fly through the air, and then shoot down- 
ward into the water, leaving bubbles to tell for a 
moment where they had gone. 

“They’re goin’ to shoot them cannon ag’in,” said 


282 


HOLDING THE FORD 


Shiftless Sol, but they’re puttin’ a different kind o’ 
ammunition in ’em.” 

It’s grape,” said Paul. 

“ What’s grape ? ” asked Long Jim. 

‘^All kinds of metal, slugs and suchlike, that scat- 
ter.” 

Like a handful uv buckshot, only bigger an’ more 
uv it.” 

'' That describes it.” 

**Then it ’pears to me that we’d better back water a 
lot, an’ give all them grape a chance to bust an’ fly 
whar we ain’t.” 

“ Words of wisdom, Jim,” said Henry, “ and we’d 
better get behind trees, too.” 

“ An’ good big ones,” said Shif’less Sol. “ Ef I’ve 
got an oak seven feet through in front o’ me they kin 
go on with thar fireworks.” 

They retreated hastily and lay down behind the 
great trunks, none too soon either, as the cannon 
roared and the grapeshot whistled all about them, 
cutting off twigs and leaves and ploughing the 
earth. 

"‘That shorely is dang’rous business — fur us,” said 
Shif’less Sol. “ I’m glad they didn’t start with it. It’s 
like a swarm o’ iron bees flyin’ at you, an’ ef you ain’t 
holed up some o’ ’em is bound to hit you.” 

** Back there ! ” exclaimed Henry to the shiftless 
one, who was peeping behind his oak,” they’re about 
to fire the second gun ! ” 

The discharge of grapeshot again fell in the thicket, 
but it hurt no one, and the five did not reply. Two 

283 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


more shots were fired, doing great damage to the 
forest at that spot, but none of the five. Then came 
a pause. 

The white men and the chiefs have gone into con- 
sultation again, announced Henry. 

“ Why haven^t they sent out flankers to cross the 
river ? said Paul. ‘‘ I haven’t seen a single warrior 
leave the main band.” 

They’ve been confident that the cannon would do 
the work,” replied Henry, ‘‘ and besides, the warriors 
don’t like those high banks. Now you mustn’t forget, 
either, that they think we’re a big force here.” 

** But they’ll come to that,” said the shiftless one. 
“ They don’t dare charge down that narrow gorge, on 
through the river, an’ up the hill ag’inst us. Sooner 
or later, warriors will cross the stream out o’ our sight, 
both above an’ below us, an’ that’s just what we’ve got 
to look out fur.” 

‘‘Right you are, Sol,” said Henry, “but I don’t 
think they will do it for a while. They’d like to force 
the passage without waste of time and go right ahead 
with their march.” 

Several more charges of grape were fired into the 
thickets, and leaves and twigs again rained down, but 
the five, sheltered well, remained untouched by the 
fragments of hissing metal. Then the guns relapsed 
into silence. 

“ Likely the redcoat colonel has ordered ’em to stop 
shooting,” said Paul. “ He won’t want ’em to waste 
their ammunition here, but to save it for the palisades 
of our settlements.” 


284 


HOLDING THE FORD 


“ Sounds most probable/’ said Henry. ** They can’t 
get any new supply of gunpowder and cannon balls 
and grapeshot, in these woods.” 

“ What’ll they do now ? ” asked Tom Ross. 

“ I don’t know,” replied Henry. 

** I wish I had one uv them spyglasses I saw back 
east, when I wuz a boy,” said Long Jim. 

** What’s a spyglass ? ” asked Shi f’ less Sol. 

‘Tt’s two magnify in’ glasses in short tubes fastened 
side by side, what you put to your eye an’ then you 
bring things near to you an’ see ’em big.” 

** Then I wish I had one too, Jim. I’d like to see 
the face o’ that British colonel. I know that the blood 
hez all run to his head an’ that he’s hoppin’ mad. Them 
reg’lar army orficers ain’t never much good in the 
woods. I’ve heard how Braddock had all his forces 
cut plum’ to pieces by a heap smaller number o’ war- 
riors, ’cause he wouldn’t use our forest ways. An’ 
I’d like through them glasses to see the face o’ Braxton 
Wyatt too, ’cause I know he’s turned blue with rage, 
an’ I’d like to hear him grindin’ his teeth, ’cause I 
know he’s grindin’ ’em hard, and Blackstaffe must be 
grindin’ in time with him too. An’ I’d like to see them 
two chiefs. Yellow Panther an’ Red Eagle so mad that 
they’re pullin’ away at their scalp locks, fit to pull them 
clean out o’ their heads.” 

“ Since we ain’t got any spyglass,” said Long Jim, 
with a sigh, ‘‘we’ve got to imagine a lot uv it, but I’ve 
got a fine an’ pow’ful imagination, an’ so hev you, Sol 
Hyde.” 

“ Yes, I’m seein’ the things I want to see. It’s 
285 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


cur’us how you kin do that sometimes, ef you want to 
hard enough/' 

I think," said Henry, that they're going to try 
the flankers now. I can see the leaders talking to war- 
riors whom they’ve called to ’em." 

And does that mean that it’s time fur us to light 
out ? " asked Shif’less Sol. 

** Not yet. The banks on both sides are high and 
steep for a long distance, and we can see anyone who 
tries to pass. We must spread out. Long Jim, our 
great yeller, the prize yeller of the world, we must 
leave here, and, if any of us bring down any warrior 
who tries to cross, he must yell even better than he did 
before. Stretch those leather lungs of yours, Long 
Jim, as if you were a pair of bellows." 

‘‘ You kin depend on me," replied Long Jim com- 
placently. ‘‘ I’m one that’s always tryin’ to do better 
than he did before. Ef I’ve yelled so I could be heard 
a mile then I want to yell the next time so I kin be 
heard a mile an’ a half." 

Henry and Paul went upstream and Shif’less Sol 
and Silent Tom down stream, taking good care to keep 
hidden from the very best eyes in the savage army. It 
was not merely the youthful general’s object to make 
a delay at the ford — that in itself was of secondary 
importance — but he must turn into a cloud the veil of 
fear and superstition that he knew already enveloped 
the savage army. They must be smitten by unknown 
and mysterious terrors. The five must make the medi- 
cine men who were surely with them believe that all 
the omens were bad. Henry, although the word 


286 


HOLDING THE FORD 


psychology ’’ was strange to him, knew the power of 
fear, and he meant to concentrate all the skill of the 
hve upon its increase. He felt that already many 
doubters must be in the ranks of the red and super- 
stitious army. , 

“ Paul,’’ he said, when they had gone three or four 
hundred yards, you stay here, and if you see any 
warriors trying to cross the stream take your best aim. 
I’m going a little farther, and I’ll do the same. With 
our great advantages in position we should be able to 
drive back an attack, unless they go a very long dis- 
tance to make the crossing.” 

‘‘ I’ll do my best,” said Paul, and Henry went about 
three hundred yards farther, lying close in a clump of 
laurel, where he could command a perfect view of the 
opposite shore, noticeable there because of a consider- 
able dip. It was just such a place as the flanking 
warriors would naturally seek, because the crossing 
would be easier, and he intended to repel them him- 
self. 

He lay quite still for a quarter of an hour. Nothing 
stirred in the forest on the other shore, but he had 
expected to wait. The Indians, believing that a formid- 
able force opposed them, would be slow and cautious in 
their advance. So he contained himself in patience, 
as he lay with the slender muzzle of his rifle thrust 
forward. 

Finally, he saw the bushes on the opposite shore 
move, and a face, painted and ghastly, was thrust 
out. Others followed, a half-dozen altogether, and 
Henry saw them surveying the river and examining 

287 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


his own shore. The muzzle of his rifle moved for- 
ward a few inches more, but he knew that it would 
be an easy shot. 

The leader of the warriors presently began to climb 
down the bank. He was a stalwart fellow and Henry 
knew by his paint that he was a Miami. Again the 
great youth was loath to fire from ambush, but a des- 
perate need drives scruples away, and the rifle muzzle, 
thrusting forward yet an inch or two more, bore 
directly upon the Indian’s heart. 

The man was halfway down the bank, about thirty 
feet high at that point, when Henry pulled the trigger. 
Then the Indian uttered his death yell, plunged for- 
ward and fell head foremost into the stream. His body 
shot from sight in the water, came up, floated a mo- 
ment or two with the current and then sank back again. 
The other warriors, appalled, climbed back hastily, 
while from the bushes that fronted the ford below 
came a series of triumphant and tremendous shouts, as 
Long Jim, hearing the shot, poured forth all the glory 
of his voice. 

Truly he surpassed himself. His earlier perform- 
ance was dimmed by his later. The thickets, where 
he ranged back and forth, shouting his triumphant 
calls, seemed to be full of armed men. His voice sank 
a moment and then came the report of a shot down the 
stream, followed by the death cry. Long Jim knew 
that it was Shif less Sol or Silent Tom who had pulled 
the fatal trigger and he began to sing of that triumph 
also. Clear and full his voice came once more, moving 
rapidly from point to point, and Henry in his covert 


288 


HOLDING THE FORD 


laughed to himself, and with satisfaction, at the long 
man^s energy and success. 

The great youth did not fail to watch the opposite 
shore, quite sure that the party would not retire with 
the loss of a single warrior, but would make an attempt 
elsewhere. His eyes continually searched the thickets, 
but they were so dense that they disclosed nothing. 
Then he moved slowly up the stream, believing that 
they would go farther for the second trial, and he was 
rewarded by the glimpse of a feather among the trees. 
That feather, he knew was interwoven with a scalp 
lock, and, as the slope of the bank there was gradual, 
he was sure that they were coming. 

It seemed to Henry that verily the fates fought for 
him. He knew that they were going to try the cross- 
ing there, and they would be easy prey to the concealed 
marksman. Even as he knelt he heard Long Jim’s 
voice raised again in his mighty song of triumph, and 
although he could not hear the shot now, he was certain 
that the rifle of Silent Tom or Shi f ’less Sol had found 
another victim. So they, too, were guarding the ford 
well, and he smiled to himself at the courage and skill 
of the invincible pair. 

He saw another scalp lock appear, then another and 
another, until they were eight in all. The warriors 
remained for several minutes partly hidden, scanning 
the opposite shore, and then one only emerged into full 
view, as if he were feeling the way for the others. 
Henry changed his tactics, and, instead of waiting for 
the man to begin the descent of the cliff, fired at once. 
The warrior fell back in the bushes, where his body lay 

28 q 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


hidden, but the others set up the death cry, and Henry 
was so sure that they would not try the crossing again 
soon — ^at least not yet — that he went back to Paul's 
covert, and the two returned to Long Jim. Shif less Sol 
and Silent Tom were called in and the leader said : 

‘T think we’ve done all we can here. We've created 
the impression of a great force to hold the ford. We've 
also made them think it can stretch far enough to watch 
its wings. Four warriors just fallen prove that. 
They’ll probably send scouts miles up and down the 
stream to cross, and then hunt us out, but that’ll take 
time, until night at least, and maybe they won’t know 
positively until morning, because scouting in the 
thickets in the face of an enemy is a dangerous busi- 
ness. So, I propose that we use the advantage we’ve 
gained.” 

‘Tn what way?” asked Paul. 

''We’ll go now. We don’t want 'em to find out how 
few we are, and we don’t want ’em to learn, either, 
that we’re we.” 

"That is, they must continue to think that we're 
behind ’em or, on their flanks, and that this is another 
and larger force in their front.” 

"That’s the idea. What say you?” 

"I’m for it,” said Paul. 

"Votin’ ez a high private I say too, let's leg it from 
here,” said Long Jim. 

"The jedgment o’ our leader is so sound that thar 
ain’t nothin' more to say,” quoth the shiftless one. 

"Let’s go,” said Silent Tom. 

Then the little band, five against a thousand, rifles 


290 


HOLDING THE FORD 


against cannon, that had victorio'usly held the ford, 
stole away with soundless tread through the green- 
wood. But they did not travel southward long. When 
darkness came they turned toward the east, and 
traveling many miles, made camp as they had done 
once before on a little island in a swamp, which they 
reached by walking on the dead and fallen trees of 
many years. There when they sat down under the 
trees they could not refrain from a few words of tri- 
umph and mutual congratulation, because another and 
most important link in the chain had been forged with 
brilliant success. 

‘‘Although it’s dark and it’s seven or eight miles 
away,” said Shif’less Sol, “I kin see that Indian army 
now, a-settin’ before the ford, an’ wonderin’ how it’s 
goin’ to git across.” 

“An’ I kin hear that savage army now, movin’ up 
an’ down, restless like,” said Long Jim. “I kin hear 
them redcoat officers, an’ them renegades, an’ them 
Injun chiefs, grindin’ thar upper teeth an’ thar lower 
teeth together so hard with anger that they won’t be 
able to eat in the mornin’.” 

“And I can see their wrath and chagrin tomorrow, 
when their scouts tell them no enemy is there,” said 
Paul. “I can tell now how the white leaders and the 
red leaders will rage, and how they will wonder who 
the men were that held them.” 

“And I can read their minds ahead,” said Henry. 
“The five of us will become not a hundred, but two 
hundred, and every pair of our hands will carry forty 
rifles.” 


291 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


“WeVe fooled ’em well,” said Silent Tom, tersely. 
“And now to sleep,” said Henry, “because we must 
begin again in the morning. 

Soon the five slept the deep sleep that comes after 
success. 


CHAPTER XV 


THE GREAT CULMINATION 

I T could almost be said of them, so sensitive were 
they to sound or even to a noiseless presence, that 
usually when sleeping they were yet awake, that, 
like the wild animals living in the same forest, warn- 
ings came to them on the wind itself, and that, though 
the senses were steeped in slumber, the sentinel mind 
was yet there. But this morning it was not so. They 
slept, not like forest runners, who breathe danger every 
hour, both day and night, but like city dwellers, secure 
against any foe. 

It was Silent Tom who awoke first, to find the day 
advanced, the sun like a gigantic shield of red and 
gold in the western heavens, and the wind of spring 
blowing through the green foliage. He shook himself, 
somewhat like a big, honest dog, and not awakening 
the others, walked to the edge of their island in the 
swamp, the firm land not being more than thirty feet 
across. 

But on this oasis the trees grew large and close and 
no one on the mainland beyond the swamp could have 
seen human beings there. The swamp was chiefly the 
result of a low region flooded by heavy spring rains. 


293 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


and in the summer would probably be as dry and firm 
as the oasis itself. But, for the present, it was what 
the pioneers called “drowned lands” and was an 
effective barrier against any ordinary march. 

Silent Tom looked toward the north, and saw a coil 
of smoke against the brilliant blue of the sky. It was 
very far away, but he was quite sure that it came from 
the Indian camp, and its location indicated that they 
had not yet crossed the river. He felt intense satis- 
faction, but he did not even chuckle in his throat, after 
the border fashion. He had not been named Silent 
Tom for nothing. He was the oldest of the five, 
several years older than Long Jim, who was next in 
point of age, and he was often called Old Tom Ross, 
although in reality the “old” in that case was like the 
“old” that one college boy uses when he calls another 
“old fellow.” 

But if Silent Tom did not talk much he thought and 
felt a very great deal. The love of the wilderness 
was keen in him. Elsewhere he would have been like 
a lion in an iron-barred cage. And, like the rest of the 
five, he would have sacrificed his life to protect those 
little settlements of his own kind to the south. It has 
been said that usually when the five slept they were yet 
almost awake, but this morning when Silent Tom was 
awake he was also dreaming. He was dreaming of 
the great triumph that they had won on the preceding 
day : Five against a thousand ! Rifles against cannon ! 
A triumph not alone of valor but of intellect, of wiles 
and stratagems, of tactics and management! 

He did not possess, in the same great degree, the gift 

294 


THE GREAT CULMINATION 


of imagination which illuminated so nobly the minds 
and souls of Henry and Paul and the shiftless one, but 
he felt deeply, nevertheless. Matter-of-fact and prac- 
tical, he recognized, that they had won an extraordi- 
nary victory, to attempt which would not even have 
entered his own mind, and knowing it, he not only 
gave all credit to those who had conceived it, but ad- 
mired them yet the more. He was beginning to realize 
now that the impossible was nearly always the possible. 

Life looked very good to Tom Ross that day. It 
was bright, keen and full of zest. A deeply religious 
man, in his way, he felt that the forest, the river, and 
all the unseen spirits of earth and air had worked for 
them. The birds singing so joyously among the boughs 
sang not alone for themselves, but also for his four 
comrades who slept and for him also. 

He listened awhile, crossed the swamp on the fallen 
trees, scouted a little and then came back, quite sure 
that no warrior was within miles of them, as they were 
marching in another direction, and then returned to 
the oasis. The four still slept the sleep of the just and 
victorious. Then Tom, the cunning, smiled to himself, 
and came very near to uttering a deep-throated chuckle. 

Opening his little knapsack, he took out a cord of 
fishing line, with a hook, which, with wisdom, he al- 
ways carried. He tied the line on the end of a stick, 
and, then going eastward from the oasis, he walked 
across the fallen or drifted trees until he came to the 
permanent channel of a creek, into which the flood 
waters drained. There he dropped his hook, having 
previously procured bait, worms found under a stone. 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


Doubtless no hook had ever been sunk in those 
waters before, and the fish leaped to the bait In fifteen 
minutes he had half a dozen fine fellows, which he 
deftly cleaned with his hunting knife. Then he 
returned, soft-footed, to the island. The four, as he 
wished, still slept. After all, he did have imagination 
and, a feeling for surprise, and the dramatic. Had his 
comrades awakened then, before his preparations were 
complete, it would have spoiled his pleasure. 

It was a short task for one such as he to use flint 
and steel, and kindle a fire on the low side of the 
island, facing toward the east, but yet within’ the 
circle of the trees. Dead wood was lying everywhere 
and it burned rapidly. Then, quickly broiling the fish 
on sharpened ends of twigs and laying them on green 
leaves, he went back and awakened the four, who 
opened their eyes and sat up at the same time. 

‘‘What’s the smell that’s ticklin’ my nose?” ex- 
claimed Long Jim. 

“Fish,” replied Silent Tom gruffly. “Breakfast’s 
ready ! Come on !” 

The four leaped to their feet, and followed the 
pleasant odor which grew stronger and more savory as 
they advanced. 

“Ain’t cooked like you kin do it,” said Silent Tom 
to Long Jim, “but I done my best.” 

“Kings could do no more,” said the shiftless one, 
“an’ this is the finest surprise I’ve had in a ’coon’s age. 
I wuz gettin’ mighty tired o’ cold vittles. A lazy man 
like me needs somethin’ hot now an’ then to stir him 
up, don’t he Jim?” 


2Q6 


THE GREAT CULMINATION 


“Guess he does, an' so do I," said Long Jim, reaching 
hungrily for a fish. 

All fell to. The fish were of the finest flavor, and 
they had been cooked well. Silent Tom said nothing,, 
but he glowed with satisfaction. 

“How'd you do it, Tom?" asked Shifless Sol. 

“Line, hook, bait, water, fish," replied Ross, waving 
his hand in the direction of the creek. 

“Ain't he the pow'ful talker?" laughed the shiftless 
one. “When Tom dies an' goes up to heaven to take 
his place in them gran' an' eternal huntin' groun's that 
we've already talked about, the Angel at the gate will 
ask him his name. ‘Tom Ross,' he'll say. Business on 
earth?’ ‘Hunter an' scout.' ‘Ever betrayed a friend?' 
‘Never.' ‘Then pass right in.' That’s all old Tom will 
say, not a word wasted in explanations an' pologies." 

“It'll be shorter than that," said Long Jim. 

“How's that?" 

“The Angel will ask him jest one question. He'll 
say, ‘Who's your best friend on earth?' an' Tom will 
answer ‘Long Jim Hart, what's cornin' on later,' an' 
the Angel will say : ‘That's enough. Go right in and 
pick out the best place in Heaven fur yourself an' your 
friends who will be here, some day.' " 

Sileqt Tom blushed under the praise which was 
thoroughly sincere, and begged them, severally, to take 
another fish. But they had enough, and prepared to 
travel again, to forge another link in the chain which 
they were striving so hard to complete. 

“What's the plan, Henry?" asked the shiftless one- 
in his capacity as lieutenant. 

297 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


^T think we ought to complete that circle around the 
Indian army, curving to the west and then to the north, 
until we’re in their rear. Then we can complete the 
impression that two forces are attacking ’em, one in 
front and the other behind. What do you think?” 

‘T’m hot fur roundin’ out the circle,” replied 
Shif’less Sol. ‘T always like to see things finished, 
an’ I want to make the warriors think a couple o’ 
hundred white riflemen march where only five really 
make tracks.” 

‘‘Same here,” said Jim Hart, “Suits me ’cause I’ve 
got long legs, made out uv steel wire, close wrapped. 
I see clear that we’ve got to do a power o’ marchin’, 
more of it than fightin’.” 

“I don’t believe any one can think of a better plan,” 
said Paul, “and yours, Henry, certainly promises well.” 

“I’m for it,” said Silent Tom. 

“Then we go now,” said Henry. 

The smoke that Tom had seen earlier was gone, and 
the five, believed that the Indian army, discovering 
the absence of their foe, had probably crossed the river. 

“Since they’re on the march again,” said Henry, 
“we can take it slowly and need not exhaust ourselves.” 

“Jest dawdle along,” said Shif’less Sol, “an’ let ’em 
pass us. 

“Yes, that’s it.” 

“We’ll keep far enough away to avoid their scouts 
and hunters,” said Paul. 

It was really the hunters against whom they had to 
keep the most watchful guard, as so numerous a force 
ate tremendous quantities of game, and, the men seek- 

298 


THE GREAT CULMINATIOM 


ing it had to spread out to a considerable distance on 
either flank. But if the hunters came, the five were 
sure that they would see them first, and they felt little 
apprehension. 

They passed out of the swampy country, and entered 
the usual rolling region of low hills, clothed in heavy 
forest, and abounding in game. Here they stopped 
a while in their task of completing the circle, and 
waited while the Indian army marched. Henry cal- 
culated that it could not go more than a dozen miles 
a day, since the way had to be cut for the cannon, and 
even if they remained where they were, the Indian 
army when night came, would be very little farther 
south than the five. 

‘T vote we turn our short stop into a long one,^’ 
said Shifless Sol, “since, ef we went on we'd jest have 
to come back again. An' me bein' a lazy man I'm 
ag'in any useless work. What do you say, Saplin' ?" 

“I'm with you, Sol, not 'cause I’m lazy, which I 
ain't, an' never will be, but cause it ain't wuth while 
to go back on our tracks an' then come forward ag'in. 
What I do say is this ; since Tom Ross is such a good 
fisher I reckon he might take his hook an' line an' go 
east to the creek, which can't be fur from here, an' 
ketch some more fish jest ez good ez them we had this 
mornin'. After dark I'll cook 'em, takin' the trouble 
off his hands." 

All fell in with the suggestion, including Tom him- 
self, and after a while he went away on the errand, 
returning in due time with plenty of fish as good as 
the others. This time Long Jim cooked them when 


299 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


night came, in a low place behind the trees, and once 
more they had warm and delicate food. 

When the moon rose in a clear sky, they were able to 
trace the smoke of the Indian campfire, almost due west 
of them, as they calculated it would be, and a long dis- 
tance away. Henry regarded it thoughtfully and Paul 
knew that his mind was concentrated upon some plan. 

‘‘What is it he asked at last. 

“I think some of us ought to go late tonight and 
see what chance we have at the guns.’’ 

“You’ll take me with you, Henry?” 

“No, Paul. It’ll have to be Shif’less Sol, while the 
rest of you stand by as a reserve. What call shall we 
use, the owl or the wolf ?” 

“Let it be the wolf,” said the shiftless one, “ ’cause 
I feel like a wolf tonight, ready to snap at an’ bite them 
that’s tryin’ to hurt our people.” 

“Sol gits mighty ferocious when thar ain’t anythin’ 
more terrible than a rabbit close by,” said Long Jim. 

“It ain’t that. It’s my knowin’ that you’ll run to 
my help ef I git into trouble,” said Shif’less Sol. 

Paul felt a little disappointment, but it disappeared 
quickly. He knew that Shif’less Sol was the one who 
ought to go, and in the high tasks they had set for 
themselves there were enough dangers for all. 

“Then it will be the cry of the wolf,” said Henry. 
“To most people their yelps are alike, but not to us. 
You won’t forget the particular kind of howl that Sol 
and I give forth ?” 

“Never,” said Long Jim. “Thar ain’t another sech 
wolf in the woods ez Shif’less Sol.” 


300 


THE GREAT CULMINATION 


A few more brief words and Henry and his comrade 
were gone, traveling at a swift rate toward the Indian 
camp. Dark and the forest separated the two from 
the three, but they could send their signal cries at any 
time across the intervening space, and communication 
was not interrupted. They advanced in silence several 
miles, and then they became very cautious, because 
they knew that they were within the fringe of scouts 
and hunters. With so many to feed it was likely that 
the Indians would hunt by night, especially as the wild 
turkeys were numerous, and it was easy to obtain them 
in the dark. 

Both Henry and Shi f ’less Sol saw turkey signs, and 
their caution increased, when they noticed a dozen 
dusky figures of large birds on boughs near by, sure 
proof that the warriors would soon be somewhere in 
the neighborhood, if they were not so already. They 
began to stoop now, and use cover all the way, and 
presently Henry felt that their precautions were well 
taken, as a faint but distant sound, not native to the 
forest, came to his ear. 

‘There, Sol!” he whispered. “Did you hear it? To 
the right.” 

The shiftless one listened a moment or two and 
replied : 

“Yes, I kin make it out.” 

“I say it’s the twang of a bowstring, Sol.” 

“So do I, Henry.” 

“They’re probably shooting the turkeys out of the 
trees with arrows. Saves noise and their powder and 
lead, too.” 


301 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


“Wherein the Injun shows a heap o' sense, Henry." 

“I can hear more than one bow twanging now, Sol. 
The turkeys must be plentiful hereabouts, but even 
with bows and arrows only used against 'em they’re 
bound to take alarm soon." 

“Yes, thar go some o’ ’em gobblin’ now, an’ they’re 
flyin’ this way." 

They heard the whirr of wings carrying heavy 
bodies, and frightened turkeys flew directly over their 
heads. As the Indians might come in pursuit, Henry 
and Shif’less Sol lay down among the bushes. A 
shouting broke out near them, and the forest, for a 
wide space, was filled with the whirring of wings. 

“The biggest flock o’ wild turkeys that ever wuz 
must hev roosted right ’roun’ us,” said Shif’less Sol, 
“ ’cause I seem to see ’em by the dozens.” 

“More likely fifteen or twenty flocks were scattered 
about through the woods, and now they have all joined 
in a common flight." 

“Mebbe so, but whether one flock or twenty j’ined, 
this is suttinly Turkeyland. An’ did you ever see sech 
fine turkeys. Look at that king gobbler, Henry, flyin’ 
right over our heads! He must weigh fifty pounds 
ef he weighs an ounce, an’ his wattles are a wonder to 
look at. An’ I kin see him lookin’ right down at 
me, ez he passes an’ I kin hear him sayin’: T ain’t 
a feared o’ you, Sol Hyde, even ef you hev got a gun 
in your hand. I kin fly low over your head, so low 
that I’ll brush you with my wings, and with my 
red wattles, which are a wonder to see, an’ you 
dassn’t fire. I’ve got you where I want you, Sol 


302 


THE GREAT CULMINATION 


Hyde. I ain’t afeard o’ anything but Injuns tonight.’ ” 

Shi f ’less Sol’s words were so lugubrious that Henry 
was compelled to laugh under his breath. It did look 
like an injustice of fate, when hunters so keen, as they, 
were compelled to lie quiet, while wild turkeys in 
hundreds flew over their heads, and although the shift- 
less one may have exaggerated a little about the king 
gobbler, Henry saw that many of them were magnifi- 
cent specimens of their kind. Yet to lie and stir not 
was the price of life, as they soon saw. 

Indians came running through the great grove, dis- 
charging arrows at the turkeys, many of which flew 
low, and the air was filled with the twanging of bow 
strings. Not a rifle or musket was fired, the warriors 
seeming to rely wholly upon their ancient weapons for 
this night hunt. They appeared to be in high good 
humor, too, as the two crouching scouts heard them 
laughing and chattering as they picked up the fallen 
birds, and then sent arrows in search of more. 

Shi f ’less Sol became more and more uneasy. Here 
was a grand hunt going well forward and he not a 
part of it. Instead he had to crouch among bushes and 
flatten himself against the soil like an earthworm, 
while the twanging of the bows made music, and the 
eager shouts stirred every vein. 

The hunt swept off to the westward. The dusky 
figures of warriors and turkeys disappeared in the 
brush, and Henry and Shi f ’less Sol, ceasing to be 
earthworms, rose to their knees. 

“They didn’t see us,” said the shiftless one, “but it 
was hard to stay hid.” 


303 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


‘‘But here we are alive and safe. Now, I think, 
Sol, we’d better go on straight toward their camp, but 
keep a lookout at the same time for those fellows, 
when they come back.” 

They could not hear the twang of bowstrings now, 
but the shouts still came to them, though much soft- 
ened by the distance. Presently they too died away, 
and with silence returning to the forest Henry and 
Shif’less Sol stood upright. They listened only a 
moment or two, and then advanced directly toward the 
camp. Crossing the brook they went around a cluster 
of thorn bushes, and came face to face with two men. 
Shif’less Sol, quick as a panther, swung his clubbed 
rifle like lightning and the foremost of the two, a 
Shawnee warrior, dropped like a log, and Henry, too 
close for action, seized the other by the throat in his 
powerful hands. 

It was not a great and brawny throat into which 
those fingers of steel settled, and its owner began to 
gasp quickly. Then Henry noticed that he held in his 
grasp not an Indian, but a white man, or rather a boy, 
a fair English boy, a youthful and open face upon 
which the forest had not yet set its tan. 

He released his grasp slowly. He could not bear 
the pain and terror in the eyes of the slender Eng- 
lish youth, who, though he wore the uniform of a 
subaltern, seemed so much out of place there in the 
deep woods. Yet the forester meant to take no need- 
less risk. 

“Promise that you will not cry out and I spare you,” 
he said, his blue eyes looking straight into those of 


304 


THE GREAT CULMINATION 


the lad, which returned his gaze with defiance. The 
steel grasp settled down again. 

‘"Better promise,” said Henry. “It’s your only 
chance.” 

The obstinate look passed out of his eyes, and the 
lad nodded, as he could not speak. Then Henry took 
away his hand and said : 

“Remember your word.” 

The English youth nodded again, gurgled two or 
three times, and rubbed his throat : 

“ ’Twas a mighty grip you had upon me. Who are 
you ?” 

“The owners of this forest, and we’ve jest been 
tellin’ you that you’ve no business here on our 
grounds,” said the shiftless one. 

The boy — he was nothing more — stared at them in 
astonishment. It was obvious to the two forest run- 
ners that he had little acquaintance with the woods. 
His eyes filled with wonder as he gazed upon the two 
fierce faces, and the two powerful figures, arrayed in 
buckskin. 

“Your forest?” he said. 

“Yes,” replied Henry quietly, “and bear in mind 
that I held your life in my hands. Had you been an 
Indian you would be dead now.” 

“I won’t forget it,” said the youth, who seemed 
honest enough, “and I’m not going to cry out and bring 
the warriors down upon you for two very good reas- 
sons — because I’ve promised not to do so, and if I did, 
I know that your comrade there would shoot me down 
the next instant.” 


305 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


“I shorely would/' said Shifless Sol, grimly. 

‘‘And now/' said Henry, “what is your name and 
what are you doing here ?" 

“My name is Roderick Cawthome, I'm a subaltern 
in the British army, and I came over to help put down 
the rebels, in accordance with my duty to my king and 
country. All this land is under our rule." 

“Do you think so?" asked Henry. “Do you think 
that this wilderness, which extends a thousand miles 
in every direction, is under your rule?" 

The young subaltern looked around at the dark 
forest and shivered a little. 

“Technically, yes," he replied, “but it’s a long way 
from Eton.” 

“What's Eton?" 

“Eton is a school in England, a school for the sons 
of gentlemen." 

. “I see. And would I be considered the son of 
a gentleman?" 

Young Cawthorne looked up at the tanned and 
powerful face bent over him. He had already noted 
Henry's good English, and, feeling the compelling 
gaze of one who was born to be a master, he replied, 
sincerely and cheerfully : 

“Yes, the son 'of a gentleman, and a: gentleman your- 
self.” 

“An' I’m a gentleman too," said Shifless Sol. “My 
good rifle says so every time." 

“It was the power of earlier weapons that started 
the line of gentlemen," said Cawthorne. “Now what 
do you two gentlemen purpose to do with me ?" 

306 


THE GREAT CULMINATION 


“Do you know what would be done with us if things 
were changed about ?” asked Henry, “and we were the 
prisoners of you and the colonel and the red men with 
whom you travel 

“No. What would it be?’’ 

“You’d have the pleasure of standing by and seeing 
the two of us burned alive at the stake. We wouldn’t 
be burned quickly. It can be protracted for hours, and 
it’s often done to our people by your allies.” 

The young Englishman paled. 

“Surely it can’t be so !” he said. 

“But surely it is so !” said the young forester fiercely. 

“I’m at your mercy.” 

“We ain’t goin’ to burn you now,” said Shif’less Sol. 
“We can’t afford to set up a big torch in the forest, 
with our enemies so near.” 

Cawthorne shivered. 

“Do you still feel,” asked Henry, “that you’re the 
ruler over the wilderness here, five thousand miles 
from London ?” 

“Technically only. At the present time I’m making 
no boasts.” 

“Now, you go back to your colonel and the rene- 
gades and the red chiefs and tell them they’ll find no 
thoroughfare to the white settlements.” 

“So, you don’t mean to kill me?” 

“No, we don’t do that sort of thing. Since we can’t 
hold you a prisoner now, we release you. It’s likely 
that you don’t know your way to your own camp, but 
your red comrade here will guide you. My friend 
didn’t break his skull, when he struck him with the butt 


307 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


of his rifle, though it was a shrewd blow. He's com- 
ing to." 

Cawthorne looked down at the reviving savage, and 
then looked up to thank the foresters, but they were 
gone. They had vanished so quickly and silently that 
he had not heard them going. Had it not been for the 
savage who was now sitting up he would not have 
believed that it was real. 

Henry and the shiftless one had dropped down in 
the bushes only a little distance away, and, by the 
moonlight, they saw the look of bewilderment on the 
face of the young Englishman. 

‘Tt don't hardly look fair to our people that we 
should let him go," said the shiftless one. 

‘‘But we had to," Henry whispered back. “It was 
either kill him or let him go, and neither you nor I, 
Sol, could kill him. You know that." 

“Yes, I know it." 

“Now, the warrior has all his senses back, though 
his head is likely to ache for a couple of days. We 
don't lose anything by letting them have their lives, 
Sol. The talk of their encounter with us will grow 
mightily as they go back to the Indian army. The 
warrior scarcely caught a glimpse of us, and he's likely 
to say that he was struck down by an evil spirit. Caw- 
thorne's account of his talk with us will not weaken 
him in his belief. Instead it will make him sure that 
we're demons who spared them in order that they 
might carry a warning to their comrades." 

“I see it, Henry. It's boun’ to be the way you say 
it is, an' our luck is still workin’ fur us." 


308 


THE GREAT CULMINATION 


They saw the English lad and the warrior turn back 
toward the camp, and then they rose, going away 
swiftly at a right angle from their original course. 
After pursuing it a while, they curved in again toward 
the camp. 

In a half-hour they saw the distant flare of lights, 
and knew that they were close to the Indian army. 
They were able by stalking, carried on with infinite 
pains and skill, to approach so near that they could see 
into the open, where the fires were burning, but not 
near enough to achieve anything of use. 

Alio way, Cartwright, the renegades and the chiefs 
stood together, and Cawthorne, and the warrior who 
had been with him, stood before them. Evidently they 
had just got back, and were telling their tale. Both 
of the foresters laughed inwardly. Their achievement 
gave them much pleasure, and they felt that they were 
making progress toward forging the new link in the 
chain. 

‘‘Can you see the cannon?” whispered Shifless Sol. 

“Over there at the far edge. The ammunition 
wagons carrying the powder and the balls and the 
grapeshot are drawn up between them. But we can’t 
get at ’em, Sol. Not now, at least.” 

“No, but see, Henry, a lot of them warriors are 
beginnin’ to dance, an’ thar are two medicine men 
among ’em. They’ve overheard the news o’ what 
we’ve done, an’ they’re gittin’ excited. They’re shore 
now the evil sperrits are all ’roun’ ’em.” 

“Looks like' it, Sol, and those medicine men 
are not afraid of Alloway, the renegades, the chiefs 


309 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


or anybody else. They're encouraging the dancing.” 

Henry and the shiftless one saw the medicine men 
through the glow of the lofty flames, and they looked 
strange and sinister to the last degree. One was 
wrapped in a buffalo hide with the head and horns 
over his own head, the other was made up as a bear. 
The glare through which they were seen, magnified 
them to twice or thrice their size, and gave them a 
tint of blood. They looked like two monsters walk- 
ing back and forth before the warriors. 

“The seed we planted is shorely growin' up good 
an' strong,” whispered Shif less Sol. 

More and more warriors joined in the chant of the 
medicine men. The two saw Alloway gesture furi- 
ously toward them, and then they saw Yellow Panther 
and Red Eagle shake their heads. The two interpreted 
the movements easily. Alloway wanted the chiefs to 
stop the chanting which had in it the double note of 
awe and fear, and Yellow Panther and Red Eagle dis- 
claimed any power to do so. 

Again the foresters laughed inwardly, as the mon- 
strous and misshapen figures of the two medicine men 
careered back and forth in the flaming light. They 
knew that at this moment their power over the war- 
riors was supreme. The more Alloway raged the more 
he weakened his own influence. 

“An' now they're dancin' with all their might,” 
whispered the shiftless one. “Look how they bound 
an' twist an' jump! Henry, you an' me have seed 
some wild sights together, but this caps 'em.” 

It was in truth a most extraordinary scene, this 


310 


THE GREAT CULMINATION 


wild dance of the hundreds in the depths of the 
primeval forest. Around and around they went, led 
by the two medcine men, the bear and the buffalo, and 
the hideous, monotonous chant swelled through all the 
forest. It did not now contain the ring of triumph 
and anticipation. Instead it was filled with grief for 
the fallen, fear of the evil spirits that filled the air, and 
of Manitou who had turned his face away from them. 

Alloway and the white men who were left, drew to 
one side. Henry could imagine the rage of the colonel 
at his helplessness, and he could imagine too that he 
must feel a thrill of awe at the wild scene passing 
before him. The time and the circumstances must 
work upon the feelings of a white man, no matter 
how stout his heart. 

‘Tf we could strike another good strong blow now,'' 
said the shiftless one, ‘T think they would break into a 
panic." 

“True," said Henry, “but we must not depart from 
our original purpose to get at the cannon. I don't 
think we can do it tonight and so we’d better withdraw. 
Maybe we’ll have another chance tomorrow night.” 

“I'm agreein' with you, Henry, an' I'm beginnin' 
to think mighty like the warriors do, that Manitou, 
which is jest their name for our God, turns his face 
upon you or turns his face away from you." 

“It looks so, Sol. I suppose the Indians in most 
ways don't differ much from us. Only they're a lot 
more superstitious." 

Slowly they crept away, but when they finally rose 
to their feet in the depths of the forest they could still 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


see the glow of the great fires behind them. Henry 
and the shiftless one knew that the Indians had been 
heaping logs upon coals until the flames sprang up 
fifteen or twenty feet, and that around them nearly the 
whole army was now dancing and singing. The wail- 
ing note of so many voices still reached them, shrill, 
piercing and so full of lament that the nerves of the 
forest runners themselves were upset. 

'T want to git away from here,’' said the shiftless 
one, and then he added wistfully: wish we could 

strike our big blow, whatever it is, tonight, Henry. 
Their state o’ mind is terrible. They’re right on edge, 
an’ ef we could do somethin’ they’d break, shore.” 

‘T know it,” said Henry, ‘Tut we’re not able to get 
at what we want to reach.” 

Nevertheless they stood there, and listened some 
time to the wailing note of all the hundreds who were 
oppressed and afraid, because the face of Manitou was 
so obviously turned from them. 

Henry and the shiftless one, as they retured toward 
their comrades whom they had left behind, did not 
relax their caution, knowing that hunting parties were 
still abroad, and that veteran chiefs like Yellow 
Panther and Red Eagle had sent scouts ahead. Twice 
they struck trails, and fragments of feathers left on 
the bushes by warriors returning with turkeys. 

They were at least two miles from the camp when 
they heard noises that indicated the passage of a small 
body of the Indians, and as they stepped behind trees 
to conceal themselves Shi f ’less Sol’s foot suddenly 
sank with a bubbling sound into an oozy spot In an 


312 


THE GREAT CULMINATION 


instant, all the Indians stopped. Henry and his com- 
rade heard rustling sounds for a moment, and then 
there was complete silence. The two knew that the 
warriors had taken to cover, and that probably they 
would not escape without a fight. They were intensely 
annoyed as they wished to return to Paul, Long Jim 
and Silent Tom. 

The shiftless one withdrew his foot from the ooze, 
and he and Henry crouched on dry ground, watching 
with eye and ear for any movement in the thicket oppo- 
site. They knew that the warriors, with infinite 
patience, were waiting in the same manner, and it was 
likely that the delay would be long. 

‘‘Luck has turned ag’in us fur a little bit,” whis- 
pered Shiftless Sol, “but I can’t think that after favor- 
in’ us fur so long it’ll leave us fur good.” 

“I don’t think so either,” said Henry. “I hear one 
of them moving.” 

“That bein’ the case we’ll lay nearly flat,” said 
Shi f ’less Sol. 

It was well they did so, as a rifle flashed in the 
thicket before them, and a bullet cut the leaves over 
their heads. They did not reply, but crept silently to 
one side. A few minutes later another bullet crashed 
through the bushes at the same place, and this time 
Henry fired by the flash. He heard a low cry, fol- 
lowed by silence and he was sure that his bullet had 
struck a target. Shif’less Sol held his rifle ready in 
case a rush should come, but there was none, and 
Henry reloaded rapidly. 

A full half-hour of waiting followed, in which only 

313 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


a single shot was fired, and that by the warriors, to go 
wide of the mark, as usual, and the wrath of Henry 
and the shiftless one, at being held there so long, be- 
came intense. It seemed the veriest piece of irony 
that this unfortunate chance should have occurred, but 
Henry presently recalled the arrangement they had 
made with the three, wondering why they had not 
thought of it sooner. 

“The warriors are before us,” he whispered to 
Shi f ’less Sol, “and Long Jim, Paul and Tom are be- 
hind us. They may have heard the rifle shots or they 
may not, but at any rate there is something that will 
carry further.” 

“You mean the howl of the wolf! O’ course, that’s 
our call to them.” 

“Yes, and if we bring ’em up it won’t be hard to 
drive off this band.” 

“Let me give the signal then, Henry. Ef Long 
Jim is the best yeller among us mebbe I’m the best 
howler. I’m right proud o’ bein’ a wolf sometimes, 
an’ I feel like one jest now.” 

“Go back then some distance,” said Henry. “When 
the boys come up you must meet ’em and not let ’em 
run into any ambush.” 

The shiftless one glided away toward the rear, and 
Henry, lying almost flat on the grass and watching 
the thickets in front of him so intensely that no war- 
rior could have crept out of them unseen, waited. At 
the end of five minutes he heard behind him a note, 
low at first, but swelling gradually so high that it 
pierced the sky and filled the forest. It was fierce, 


314 


THE GREAT CULMINATION 


prolonged, seeming to come from the throat of a 
monster wolf, and, as it died away, a similar cry came 
from a point far back in the forest. The wolf near 
by howled again, and the wolf deep in the forest re- 
plied in like fashion. The signal was complete, and 
Henry knew that Paul, Silent Tom and Long Jim 
would come fast to help. 

There was a stirring in the thicket before him, evi- 
dently prompted by the signals, and another vain bullet 
crashed through the bushes. Henry fired once more 
at the flash, but he could not tell whether or not he 
had hit anything, although it was sufficient to hold the 
warriors in the bush. Evidently they did not con- 
sider themselves strong enough for a rush, and again 
he waited patiently, judging that the three would 
arrive in twenty minutes at the furthest. 

They came several minutes within the allotted time. 
He heard soft rustlings behind him, and then the five 
were reunited and ready for action. 

“Sol, you creep around on the right flank, and Tom, 
you take the left,” whispered the young general. 
“They’re not in numbers and I think we can soon rout 
’em without loss to ourselves.” 

The flanking movement was carried out perfect- 
ly. Shi f ’less Sol and Silent Tom opened fire on the 
right and on the left at the same time, and the 
other three, sending in bullets from the center, began 
to shout the charge, although they did no chargmg. 
But it was sufficient. They saw dusky figures 
darting away, and then, rising from the bushes the 
three divisions of their small army met victoriously 


315 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


upon the field, abandoned by the enemy in such haste. 

They saw red stains, and then a dark form almost 
hidden in the grass, a powerful warrior, painted 
hideously and dead an hour. Henry looked down at 
him thoughtfully. The retreating warriors had taken 
away his weapons, but his paint bag and the little 
charms against evil spirits remained, tied to his belt. 
It was the paint bag that held Henry’s eye, and, hold- 
ing it, gave him the idea. 

He detached the bag, the waistcloth and moccasins, 
and calling to his comrades retreated farther into the 
forest. Every one of them, as they watched his ac- 
tions, divined his intent. 

“You’re going to disguise yourself and go into the 
Indian camp,” said Paul, when they stopped. “I 
wouldn’t do it. The risk is too great. Besides, what 
can you do?” 

“I went among ’em once and came back alive,” said 
Henry, “and I think I can do it again. Besides, I 
mean to accomplish something.” 

“I’m to go with you, o’ course ?” said Shif ’less Sol, 
eagerly. 

Henry shook his head. 

“No, Sol,” he said reluctantly. “There’s only equip- 
ment for one, and it must be me. But the rest of you 
can hang on the outskirts, and if I give a cry for help 
you may come. It will be, as before, the howl of the 
wolf, and now, boys, we will work fast, because I must 
strike, while they’re still in the frenzy, created by the 
medicine men.” 

Henry took off his own clothing, and, with a shud- 
316 


THE GREAT CULMINATION 


der, put on the leggings and breechcloth of the dead 
Indian. Then Shif’less Sol and Tom Ross painted 
him from the waist up in a ghastly manner, and, with 
their heartfelt wishes for his safety and success, he 
departed for the camp, the others following in silence 
not far behind. He soon heard the sound of the chant 
and he knew that the orgie was proceeding. An In- 
dian dance could last two days and nights without 
stopping, fresh warriors always replacing those who 
dropped from exhaustion. 

It was now far past midnight, and Henry was quite 
sure that all the hunters had gone. The little party 
which he and his comrades had fought had probably 
spread already the tale of a mysterious foe with whom 
they had met, and who had slain one of their number. 
And the story, exaggerated much in the telling, would 
add to the number and power of the evil spirits 
oppressing the red army. 

Keeping for the present well hidden in the forest, 
Henry approached the fires which had now been 
heaped up to an amazing height, from which lofty 
flames leaped and which sent off sparks in millions. 
The chant was wilder than ever, rolling in weird 
echoes through the forest, the dancers leaping to and 
fro, their faces bathed in perspiration, their eyes filled 
with the glare of temporary madness. The English- 
men and renegades had gone to small tents pitched at 
the edge of the wood, but Yellow Panther and Red 
Eagle stood and watched the dancers. 

All things were distorted in the mingled dusk and 
glow of the fires, and Henry, bending low that his 


317 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


g^eat stature might not be noticed, edged gradually in 
and joined the dancers. For a while, none was more 
furious than he. He leaped and he swung his arms, 
and he chanted, until the perspiration ran down his 
face, and none looked wilder than he. In the multi- 
tude nobody knew that he was a stranger, nor would 
the glazed eyes of the dancers have noticed that he was 
one, anyhow. 

Nevertheless he was watching keenly, while he 
leaped and shouted, and his eyes were for the cannon, 
drawn up just within the edge of the forest, with the 
ammunition wagons between them. After a while he 
moved cautiously in their direction, threw himself 
panting on the grass, where others already lay in the 
stupor of exhaustion, and then, taking hold of one of 
the burning brands which the wind had blown from 
the bonfires, he edged slowly toward the forest and 
the wagons. 

This was the last link in the chain, but if it were not 
forged all the others would be in vain. Three or four 
times he stopped motion altogether, and lay flat on the 
ground. Through the red haze he dimly saw the fig- 
ures of Yellow Panther and Red Eagle who stood side 
by side, and he saw also the two medicine men, the 
Bear and the Buffalo, who danced as if they were made 
of steel, and who continually incited the others. 

Henry himself began to feel the effect of the danc- 
ing and of the wild cheering, which was like a con- 
tinuous mad incantation. His blood had never before 
leaped so wildly and he saw through a red haze all the 
time. He felt for the moment almost like an Indian, 

318 


THE GREAT CULMINATION 


or rather as if he had returned to some primeval incar- 
nation. But it did not make him feel one with those 
around him. Instead it incited him to extreme effort 
and greater daring. 

He edged himself forward slowly, dragging the 
torch upon the ground. He still saw Blackstaffe and 
Wyatt at the edge of the opening some distance away, 
but they were gazing at the great mass of the dancers. 
Alio way presently came from his tent and also stood 
looking on, though he did not join the renegades. 
Henry could imagine his feelings, his bitter disap- 
pointment. But then, one must know something about 
Indians before undertaking to go on campaigns with 
them. He hoped, however, that young Cawthorne 
would remain in his tent. 

His slow creeping lasted ten minutes. He felt now 
that he had reached the very crisis of the campaign 
made by the five, and he must not make the silghtest 
slip of any kind. He reached the grass behind the 
wagons and lay there four or five minutes without 
stirring. He discovered then that besides those be- 
tween the cannon there were four behind them loaded 
with powder. The horses were tethered in the woods 
two or three hundred yards away. He was glad that 
so much distance separated them from the cannon and 
powder. 

The torch, although he kept it concealed in the grass, 
was beginning to crackle. The problem w^as not yet 
simple, but he thought rapidly. The wagons were 
covered with canvas. Reaching up, he quickly cut off 
a long strip with his hunting knife. Then he inserted 


319 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


the strip inside the wagon and into the powder, driving 
the knife deep through canvas and wood, and leaving 
it, thrust there to hold the strip fast. 

The other end of the thick canvas fell from the 
wagon to the ground, a length of about a foot lying 
in the grass. He ignited this with his torch, and saw 
it begin to burn with a steady creeping flame. Then 
he moved swiftly away until he reached the edge of 
the forest, when he rose and ran with all his might. 
Three or four hundred yards distant, he stopped and 
uttered the cry of the wolf. The answer came in- 
stantly from a point very near, and in two minutes the 
four joined him. 

“Is it arranged?'' exclaimed Paul. 

“Yes," replied Henry. “There's a chance of a slip, 
of course. The torch is set and burning. An Indian 
may see it and put it out, but I don't " 

The sentence was never finished. The night was 
rent by a terrible crash, and as they were looking 
toward the Indian camp they saw a pyramid of fire 
shoot far up into the sky, and then sink back again. 
A half minute of dreadful silence followed, when 
every leaf and blade of grass seemed to stand still, and 
then through the distance came a long and piercing 
lament. 

“It's done!" said the shiftless one, speaking in a 
tone of awe. 

“The cannon are blown to pieces," said Paul. 

“Nothin' but scattered metal now I" said Long Jim. 

“Busted up, shore !" said Silent Tom. 

“They'll be running in a panic presently," said 


320 


THE GREAT CULMINATION 


Henry, *'and they won't stop until they're far across 
the Ohio." 

The hearts of the five swelled. They alone, five 
against a thousand, rifles against cannon, had defeated 
the great Indian army headed by artillery. They had 
equalled the knights of old — perhaps had surpassed 
them — although it was not done by valor alone, but 
also by wile and stratagem, by mind and leadership. 
Intellect had been well allied with bravery. 

But they said little, and turning back into the deeps 
of the forest, they slept until morning. 

The five rose at dawn, and went swiftly to the place 
where the Indian camp had stood, to find there, as they 
had expected, complete silence and desolation. The 
ruin was utter. All the wagons had been blown to bits, 
and the cannon were shattered so thoroughly that they 
lay in fragments. Probably Indians near by had been 
killed, but the warriors, following their custom, had 
taken their dead away with them. 

Henry, looking near the edge of the forest, suddenly 
started back at a gleam of red among the bushes. He 
knew that it had come from a red coat, and when he 
looked again he saw the body of Colonel Alloway 
lying there. He had been hit in the head by a piece 
of flying metal and evidently had been killed instantly. 
Doubtless the other English had wanted to bury him, 
but the panic of the Indians had compelled them to 
leave him, although they took their own dead. 

‘‘We'll bury him, because he was a white man," said 
Henry. 


321 


THE KEEPERS OF THE TRAIL 


They dug a grave with their knives and hatchets 
and laid him in it, putting stones over the dirt to keep 
prowling wild animals from digging there, and then 
took the Indian trail. 

It was a trail so wide and deep that a blind man 
could have followed it The panic evidently had been 
terrible. The warriors had thrown away blankets, and 
in some cases weapons. Henry found a fine hunting 
knife, with which he replaced the one he had used to 
pin down his fuse, and Silent Tom found a fine green 
blanket which he added to his own. 

They followed to the Ohio River, and some distance 
beyond. Then, satisfied that this expedition was 
routed utterly, they came back into Kentucky. 

‘Td like to go to that little house of ours inside the 
cliff,’' said Paul. 

**So would I,” said Long Jim. ^Tt's the snuggest 
home we’ve ever found inside the wilderness.” 

*‘An’ Indian proof, ez we’ve proved,” said the shifti- 
less one. 

‘‘Good fur rest,” said Silent Tom. 

“Then we go there,” said Henry. 

They reached the valley the next day and climbed 
up into the cleft which had been a home and a fortress 
for them. It was sweet and clean, full of fresh, pure 
air, and the tiny rill was trickling away merrily. 
Nothing had been disturbed. 

“Now ain’t this fine?” said Long Jim, coming out- 
side and looking over the hills. “Paul, I’ve heard you 
talk about palaces, them that the old Greeks an’ Ro- 
mans had, an’ them that they hev now in Europe, 


322 


the great culmination 


but I know that thar has never been one among ^em 
ez snug an' safe an’ cozy ez this.” 

“At least,” said the shiftless one, “I don’t believe 
any o’ ’em ever had a water supply like ourn, clean, 
cool, an’ unfailin’.” 

Silent Tom took something from his knapsack. 

“I’m goin’ to git some fish in that creek farther 
down,” he said. “You’d better hev your fire ready. 
Out here on the shelf is a good place.” 

Long Jim, happy in the task that he liked, hurried 
away in search of dead wood. The others carried 
dried leaves into the hollow and made places for their 
beds. 

Silent Tom caught plenty of good fish, to which 
they added venison and buffalo steaks, and, sitting on 
the shelf they ate and were at peace. The glow of 
triumph was still in their hearts. Alone, they had 
achieved a great deed for the sake of humanity. They 
had been through their Iliad, and like the heroes of 
antiquity, they took their well-earned rest. 

The foliage was now in its deepest flush of green. 
Henry, as he looked over a vast expanse of wilderness, 
saw nothing but green, green, the unbroken green that 
he loved. 

A bird in a tree over their heads began to pour forth 
a volume of clear, triumphant song, and the five looked 
upon it as a voice meant for them. 

“It’s the last touch,” said Paul. 

“And the victory is complete,” said Henry. 








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